The Vila
by Kendoka Girl
Summary: A young, cocky Ensign Shepard had made it to Interplanetary Combatives Training (ICT) Selection at the Vila Militar and is determined to be the Alpha dog of the pack. There, she will become a trained killer, but all of her genetic enhancements cannot prepare her for what she will learn about life. Takes place prior to the Skyllian Blitz. Harsh language, some violence.
1. Chapter 1

**W/N -** This story has been rattling around in my head for a while. This one is a back story that takes place before the Skyllian Blitz as a young, arrogant Shepard goes through N training and learns as much about life as she does about killing. I want to bring out the intensity and brutality of the training as it might happen in a special forces selection as well as bringing out Shepard's cockiness at her genetically enhanced superiority. I took a little artistic license in the rank structure and am going to use some traditional military ranks. I still scratch my head at the ME ranks. CODEX of military terms at the bottom.

The Vila – February 12, 2176, 2246 hours

She had made it. She had really made it. There was a palpable sense of excitement in the night air as Ensign Claire Shepard settled into her cot and pulled her sleeping bag up to her chest. Here she was, at the highly touted Interplanetary Combatives Academy or ICA, the most intense, the most rigorous military school in the Alliance. To the cadre, those who survived the ordeal, it was known as N-School or simply The Vila.

For the One Hundred and Thirteen men and women who made it this far, the last six months of preparation had been nothing short of grueling. Unending physical and psychological training blending in with countless rounds of ammunition shot from all manner of weapons had become these candidates' entire world. Now, here at Selection, they would emerge the best of the best or just about die trying.

"Hey…hey you," a woman said in a loud whisper. Claire looked around, but the barracks was full of trainees rustling around and fixing cots. A balled up sock hit Claire in the head. "Yeah you, over here."

Shepard snorted in irritation. "What? What do you want?" She looked over to see a woman's dark face with bright eyes. The woman was sitting up in her cot, her white tank top tight around her muscular frame.

The woman snickered, giving Shepard a sly half grin. "Sorry, can't sleep. I'm Amanda…Amanda Richardson. I was with the First of the One O third. Marine all the way."

"Claire Shepard, fleet brat. I was with the _SSV Saratoga_. Not for very long though before I qualified for Selection here," she said with a cocky edge. She had the right to be a little full of herself. After all, you had to be somebody to get here. "Yeah, my mother and father are fleet brass."

Amanda wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "Oh, one of _those_, huh? I just had to fight my way here. So, what do you think is going to happen tomorrow? They just going to run us around? Maybe we shoot a bit? You know, this whole thing is just so hush hush."

"I met one of the cadre on the _Sara_ before I shipped out. Guy was an N4. He never said a word about ICT and just gave me this weird smile when I asked."

"Well shit," Amanda said with a sigh, "it can't be any worse than the last six months. Our Top ran me ragged. If I have to say, 'more PT, sir, more PT' one more time, I'm gonna slit someone's throat."

"Yeah, I mean, how bad can it be? You have genetic enhancement, right?"

"I got the standard package, but I've done pretty well. The rest is grit and determination," Amanda said as she stretched out her right arm and made a fist, cocking it back to show a defined, bulging bicep.

Shepard raised her chin just a tad. "I got the in vitro. Strength, speed, stamina, the whole deal."

"Oh, lucky you. Rich dad trumps all."

Claire rolled back into her sleeping bag, satisfied that she was going to be the Alpha dog in this kennel. "We'd better grab some shuteye. You know they're going to run us around a bit in a few hours."

"Roger that. Have a good night, golden girl."

February 13, 2176, 0330 hours

A horrific clanging noise woke Claire up and she bolted out of her cot, her bare feet landing on the cold tile floor. Rustling in the dark told her that the other women in the female barracks were doing the same thing. She rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn, but she was prepared for this. She survived the Naval Academy after all. The clanging noise grew louder as men and women in blue t-shirts and golden shorts entered the barracks, one of them banging the metal lid of a trash can with a large soup spoon.

"Line up! Line up in front of your cots! Do it now!" the trash can lid holder yelled, the veins in his thick neck bulging as he beat metal on metal. The man was as solid as a fireplug, ropey arms attached to a meaty chest that sat atop tree trunk thighs. But his most distinguishing feature was his bushy eyebrows, the kind that looked like a row of barbed wire. "Don't make me tell you again!"

In nothing but their underwear and tank tops, Claire, Amanda and the other women scrambled to get in front of their cots, slipping and sliding and jostling each other as they came to attention.

"Are you serious? Are you freaking serious?" the man hollered. "I could have taken a dump in the time it took you ladies to line up. Get back in your cots! Do it now!"

It was all part of the game and Shepard knew it. She rolled right back into her cot and lay, ramrod straight, waiting for the next order. She could feel a presence at the head of her cot, someone standing there, looking down at her, judging her.

"All right! Get back up! Line up! Line up! Line up!"

She leapt back up amid the shuffling feet of nearly thirty other women and hopped into place in front of the cot. In two seconds, the room was silent.

The man looked down his hawk's beak nose at her and curled the edge of his lip up. He pulled the curved brim of his baseball cap down so that his beady eyes were barely visible beneath it. Shepard managed a glance at the blue cap on which 'N7' was embroidered in gold. He caught her looking and her breath froze in her chest.

"What the heck are you looking at?" His eyes were bulging and his pink face turned beat red. "I said…what…the heck…are you…looking at?" he repeated, emphasizing each word as if he were speaking to an idiot. He got right up in Shepard's face and began jabbing her forehead with the brim of his cap, causing her to wince and close her eyes. The man seemed to calm down, his face returning to a normal pallor and the stress lines along his jaw relaxing. "Heh, you don't like that, do you, Miss Shepard? Well, you're not going to like me much when we get through. So, your dad's an admiral and your mom's a captain. You know what? I don't give a shit. We earn our own place here at The Vila and if you don't get that through your thick skull I will make it my mission to see you suffer and ride your candy ass out of here. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir!"

The rage exploded from him again as he clenched his teeth. "Then all of you, get your asses out of my barracks! Get…your…asses…out of my barracks! Form up outside and sound off!"

Shepard bolted for the door along with the other women. She caught Amanda at the exit and the marine shot her a subtle smirk and a wink. They scrambled into a line opposite of the male candidates and snapped to attention. The woman on the far right began. "One!"

"Two!"

"Three!"

Shepard took a breath and sang out, "Four!" and on it went down the line. When they were done all fell silent again except for the _pitter patter_ of a light drizzle in the darkness which accumulated into small, muddy pools.

The head training instructor paced in front of them like a tiger in a cage. He came to a stop and shrugged, holding up the metal lid and spoon. "Oh, forgive me. I forgot the introductions. I am Master Chief John Hartmann. Where are my manners?" he said with a chuckle that got everyone to breathe a sigh of relief. A few chuckles echoed from the ranks as the tension broke like popped balloon. Even Shepard let out a smile and a snicker.

Hartmann froze and so did everyone's breath. Without warning, he flung the lid and spoon to the ground, making the candidates wince with the loud clang. "You think that's fucking funny? You think ICT is a joke, don't you?" he yelled, his eyes bulging again. He ran up to Shepard, his face jutting out. "Get down! Get down and sound off!"

Ranks of trainees hit the deck and began pumping out pushups. "One, two, three, one! One, two, three, two…."

Shepard felt her genetically enhanced muscles kick in as blood surged from a superior heart. By the twentieth iteration she was barely breathing hard. All around her there were the groans and cries of pain and fatigue. A small smile escaped her lips. All her life she had been the Alpha dog and this would be no different. She could do this all day.

She heard the sound of spraying water and then saw the Master Chief squat in front of her, holding a water hose. "You have my undivided attention, Shepard. You have my undivided attention," he said and began spraying the water right in her face. Water shot up her nose. "Keep counting. I can't hear you. Sounds like you're underwater."

"One…two…three, fifty five. One…two…three, fifty six," Shepard gurgled.

"You aren't drowning, are you? Cause that'd be a damn shame. I couldn't sleep for at least a day if that happened."

She couldn't see a damn thing with the stream hitting her eyes, filling her mouth. "One…two…three, fifty eight. One…two…three, fifty nine."

The jet of water stopped and Shepard gulped undiluted air. Hartmann seized her by the ear and jerked her head around. "Look over there. Look over there, sugar britches," he whispered in her ear as he pointed to a male trainee sagging and crying out with each pushup. "You see that? That is something that you will never have. That is heart. That is courage. You, you're just some kid's science project." He yanked her head the other way and pointed to a brass bell that sat atop a worn wooden frame. Before it was the downtrodden path that only failed trainees walked when they had had enough…when ICT had proven to be beyond their reach. The bell meant a one way ticket home, never to walk the hallowed halls of the Vila Militar ever again.

Hartman got down in the mud right beside her and pinched her ear until she winced. "You're gonna ring that bell for me, Shepard. You're gonna ring that bell and I will put you on that shuttle myself and send you back home to mommy and daddy."

**CODEX:**

Selection – training course to select elite personnel

Top – Senior enlisted person in a unit


	2. Chapter 2

**W/N - **I wanted to write the sort of 'what if' with a young, arrogant, renegade Shepard who is forced to confront herself in the forge of training. All her life she's been the alpha chick until now. In the next installment, I'm going to do a bit more character development as the arc progresses and new characters are introduced. CODEX at the bottom with military and weapon terminology.

**The Vila – February 15, 2176, 1831 hours**

_Ding-ding…Ding-ding._ The bell rang for the third time today. A young man had just trudged the walk of shame up to the bell and took the old rope in hand, hammering the metal ball against the brass. Soaking wet and covered in sand, he took one last look back at the diminishing ranks of ICT trainees and tried to hold his head high, but this was only the third day and he had surrendered. The last swim in the rough sea had nearly drowned him. He had had enough. So many hopes and expectations vanished with the ringing of that bell. He swung his eyes downward towards the mud and then limped away to pack his gear and board the long shuttle flight home.

An almost imperceptible smile crossed Claire Shepard's sand covered lips. There was now one less candidate to fight with for Alpha dog. Whatever his name was, he was weak. She certainly didn't want him covering her six.

Amanda Richardson sighed. "He was a good one. I knew him from the One O Third."

"Well, not good enough," Shepard said. "I could tell from day one he wasn't going to make it."

"You know, golden girl, one of these days someone is going to come along and kick your ass. It might even be me."

"That, I'd love to see."

Amanda just shook her head as the sun set over Rio de Janeiro.

Chief Hartmann strutted by like a rooster in a barnyard. Despite the previous hours of exertion he still looked fresh, his blue t-shirt smooth and tight over his chest and his N7 cap plastered over his head, the curved bill jutting out menacingly. "You people are beginning to see the kind of effort it takes to stay here. No one gets a pass here, no one buys their way through here and," he said, looking directly at Shepard, "nobody's daddy pulls any strings here."

He walked over to the young man who was struggling on day one and slammed the man in the chest with a metal clip board. "Mister LaRosa, you are the Officer in Charge of this motley crew. Take roll call. It is now chow time. Have the class fall in at The Grinder at Nineteen Fifteen. Dismissed!"

As trainees sat heavily on the ground, exhausted from hours of running and plunging into the surf, Shepard pulled the front of her white tank top out and wrung sea water from it. She was cold and wet, but no worse for wear and she inwardly groused at LaRosa being named OIC of the class. The guy had been struggling for three days now, always lagging behind, grunting and groaning with every pushup, pullup and mile that went by. She was far more fit to lead than that guy. Nothing against him, but he was better off going back to whatever fleet or staff job that he came from. Claire, on the other hand, was committed. The Shepards were a service family, through and through and there was no way that she could face Admiral John Michael Shepard as a failure.

LaRosa came over and took the pen from the clipboard. "N Class 76-06, sound off and fall out for chow." One Hundred and Ten trainees called out their names, one by one and then lined up for dinner, many of them moaning and groaning. Many of them were reaching their limits. LaRosa waited at attention while the class mustered past him and then he slid in at the end of the line.

Water still dripping from her fatigues, Shepard grabbed a plastic tray and held it up for the cook to slop a brown lump in the big slot. The man in the white apron smirked. "Bon appetite."

Shepard snorted, looking down at the gravy covered lump. "Merci beaucoup." She walked off to grab a plastic cup of red juice and moved to take a seat when she noticed the other trainees moving to other tables. By the time everyone stood at their seats, she was alone. Whatever. Being the Alpha dog meant standing ahead of the pack.

With chests puffed out, the trainees called out, "Ready to eat."

"Prepare to sit!" LaRosa shouted. "Sit!" The hall was filled with the sounds of scraping chairs and shuffling trays, followed by silence. "Prepare to eat! Eat." Silverware clinked on plastic as the trainees wolfed down the formless brown goo.

Shepard shoveled the food into her mouth as fast as she could move her hand. She was starving. Her genetic enhancement powered her to incredible strength, speed and stamina, but it meant a huge increase in calorie burn and with the skimpy meals, she was barely keeping up and was even loosing a bit of needed weight. With the last spoonful of nondescript gruel, she bit down on some sand and dirt, crunching them between her teeth. If anything, it added taste. For the last three days, she was never free from being damp, being cold or covered in dirt and sand. As she brushed short locks of wet hair from her face for the next bite, she felt a presence behind her.

"Heh heh, lookit you, lookit you," whispered Chief Hartmann into her ear and she could feel his hot breath on her face. "Sitting all by your lonesome. You sure strike a popular figure, Shepard, just the kind of person who can motivate a team and lead people into battle," he continued sarcastically.

She tensed up, but didn't move or speak.

"Who you kidding, Shepard? You don't belong here. This is only day three and already nobody likes you. You're going to end up all alone, lost in space, because no one will come and save your ass. Do yourself a favor and go home. Mom will throw you a nice soiree and you can sit in the parlor and talk politics with dad. C'mon, ring that bell for me," he said almost politely.

"No, sir."

"Oh, you think you're tough, huh? With your fancy DNA?" he said as he jabbed his finger into the back of her head. "Tough…comes…from…here," he said, jabbing her head with each word. "Tough comes from teamwork and I'm here to tell you that _you_ are not a team. Until you learn that, I guarantee you that you will ring that bell."

**February 21, 2176, 0228 hours**

Nine days into Selection and N Class 76-06 was down to Eighty Nine trainees. The sound of the brass bell ringing was a near constant reminder that not everyone was cut out to be one of the best. There were broken bones, torn tendons, near drownings and sobbing in the wee hours of the morning for those who couldn't hack it. This was no place for the sick, injured or weak. Here, they would separate the weak from the strong. For Claire, it was nothing but a thing. Her body ran like a well oiled machine, vaulting obstacles, climbing towers and running like a gazelle. She would check The Board often, making sure she was at or near the top of every physical contest. The only thing she could not shake was the never ending chill and the gnawing hunger. Even though it was summer down in Rio, they never had time to dry off and get warm.

In the darkness before dawn, Shepard sat up in her cot, awake before anyone else. She'd conquered every evolution that ICT had to throw at her thus far and she could feel the coveted honor graduate within her grasp. An ICT honor graduate could open doors. Pathways to the Admiralty were forged at the Vila and names like Jon Grissom and David Anderson were still spoken with deep respect. Her classmates might not like her, but she got the job done. Today would be a day in which she would draw one step closer to that goal.

When the cadre entered the barracks, she was ready. "Seventy Six O Six, fall out, fall out, fall out!"

Tired groans and the creaking of cots filled the area as twenty four women scrambled up and out the door and fall in with their male counterparts. Once the trainees left the barracks there was no gender in ICT. Strides in genetic enhancements made women the equal of men in all areas of soldiering and only a modicum of modesty gave the females some privacy and a different haircut. As trainees lined up for the next evolution, the cadre sprayed them with freezing water.

In nothing but her underwear, Claire suppressed a shiver. Chief Hartmann paced in front of them as the rest of the cadre turned the hoses on the class.

"This is it, people! This is the moment you have been waiting for. Get into your gear, get your lights and report to the range. You have five minutes! Five minutes! Fall out!"

From absolute stillness, the class erupted in the fury of running bodies, rushing to get back to lockers and throw on gear. Shepard practically dove into her fatigue pants and boots and, in another instant, she had her blouse and harness on. Far ahead of the others, she bolted for the door.

"Hey, golden girl!"

Shepard turned to see Amanda. Was the marine trying to slow Claire down? A lot of people wanted to see her taken down a notch. "What?"

"You forgot something," Amanda said as she threw a flashlight at Claire. The metal cylinder landed squarely in Shepard's palm as her lightning reflexes caught it. "You might need this," Amanda added wryly.

Shepard bit her lip for a second. She did not like having someone come to her rescue and she did not need to rely on anyone else to win this. Still, she could not help but feel a flush of heat in her cheeks. "Thanks."

Amanda pulled on her blue Systems Alliance cap and jumped in behind Shepard. "Don't mention it. I'm still gonna kick your ass one day," she said and gestured at the door. "Shall we?"

Trainees began pouring out the doors and running along the dark path up to the range. Narrow flashlight beams pierced the night, bouncing up and down with the strides of each N hopeful. The pounding of boots on gravel died down as the last stragglers filtered in, out of breath. The racking of the action of a weapon quickly got everyone's attention, but before anyone could see what was going on, the roar of a shotgun blast jolted the trainees up.

"Now that I have your attention, no one leaves the Vila unless they become a finely tuned weapon of the Alliance," Hartmann barked out. "And for you to become one you must first get past me." He held up a shotgun, pulled the action back in a crisp, clean sweep of his hand, checked the chamber and then placed the weapon on a table. Every move he made spoke of years of training and practice. Then, he motioned to a steel frame that housed dozens of assault rifles. "Behold, the Gorgon, courtesy of Cerberus Skunk Works. This is a fine killing tool, one that you will become intimately familiar with. This is ICT! You will not be getting that piece of shit Lancer that they give to grunts. But to keep the Gorgon, you have to earn it!"

One of the cadre, Gunnery Chief Grimaldi, motioned the class over and began handing out weapons as he called out names. "LaRosa, here. Richardson, here. Shepard, here…step up to the table and enter your name and the serial number of your weapon. Then, step up to a firing lane and bench the weapon and await further instructions."

Shepard took the rifle, feeling its hard plastic grips in her hands, feeling the weight and balance with her body. Those Cerberus guys did it right. This would be a fine tool for her trade. At one of the firing lanes, she put the weapon down, muzzle facing downrange. Several blocks of metal lay on a table, ammunition for the rifle. In this day and age, one just needed to slap a block into a feeding chamber and let the Mass Effect core strip away bits to form bullets. You just couldn't spray too much or it might overheat and melt the whole weapon and that might be just a bit of a downer.

Hartmann marched along the firing line, holding up one of the Gorgons. "Hold your weapon close and repeat after me! This is my rifle, there are many like it, but this one is mine!"

Claire barked out the rifleman's creed, honoring the weapon, making it part of her. She and the weapon would now be one. "I swear this creed. My rifle and myself are defenders of the Alliance. We are masters of our enemy. I will master my rifle as I master my life."

"Load and make ready!" Hartmann yelled. These were all experienced trainees and no one's hand needed to be held in the basics. Hands grabbed metal blocks and slammed them into feeding ports. Fingers powered up the eezo batteries and palms slapped the bolts, sending shaped rounds into chambers. Flashlights were mounted on foregrips. These weapons were ready for war.

"Stand ready, stand ready!" the command came and the squeal and thunk of turning targets brought everyone's attention downrange. Shepard thumbed her flashlight and the beam lit up a target that looked like a batarian. A three round burst leapt from the muzzle and hammered down right between those four beady eyes. The batarian target fell back and another one popped up, this time a turian. Yeah, they might be at peace now, but no human could trust those cold-hearted birds. Shepard pulled the rifle hard into her shoulder and leaned forward towards the target. Another press of the trigger and three rounds zipped into the target, shattering mandibles and head fringes. With her stance, the recoil was nothing but a thing and her sights never left the turian's face.

"Dammit," she heard and turned to see LaRosa struggling with his rifle. He was trying to pull the cocking lever back and seemed to have a malfunction. She put her eye back on the irons sights for a second before sighing and lowering her weapon.

"Hey, LaRosa," she said over the popping of rounds all around them. "You see that thing on the left side of the receiver? Yeah, that doo hickey. Hit it hard with your hand."

He looked at her with a _what the fuck _expression at first and then slammed the palm of his hand onto the lever and a loud click came from his rifle. He brought it up to his cheek and pressed the trigger sending rounds downrange. He turned back to her. "Hey, thanks. I'm Adam."

Shepard smirked. She might have just given someone a leg up on her in the fight to be the Alpha dog. "Don't mention it," she said without any enthusiasm. She glanced past him to see Amanda raising an eyebrow with a half smile.

The stomping of boots got their attention and they turned back to see Hartmann marching up. "What the fuck is going on? Do you three want to go back and lie down? Do you need a time out? Do you want some ice cream or something?"

"Sorry, sir," Adam said, "Shepard was just helping me out. I had a jam."

Hartmann spun and stared at Shepard as if a cuckoo were popping out of her forehead. "Are you fucking serious? You, golden girl Shepard, took the time to help someone in need? I might just lie down and die now. I've seen it all!" he said in amazement. He jabbed her on the nose with his finger. "You just might have a place in my beloved Vila."

The three trainees paused for a moment, unsure of what to make of this to which Hartmann exploded into another tirade. "What the fuck are you idiots looking at? There's a goddam turian out there ready to gun us down, cold hearted pricks. I strongly suggest you kill him first!"

**CODEX:**

Covering six – got your back

Foregrip – Plastic or wooden hand hold at the front of a weapon

Iron sights – post sight without optics

Receiver – lower part of a weapon, usually where the trigger and levers are


	3. Chapter 3

**W/N-** Thank you so much, everyone. Your advice is most welcome. It is great to see you again, BAM. :) Ok, now that the madness of the first part of training is over, let's take a deeper look at Shepard's character. I want to look at the darker side of the Spacer background. But, as any officer worth her salt, she has a grasp of history and tradition. I'll be taking a look at all of the major characters here at some point.

The Vila – 03 March, 2176, 1902 hours

In a rare bit of downtime, Shepard sat on her cot and pulled out portable comm device. For the first time in nearly a month, it was quiet, only the hushed sounds of a few conversations, the folding of laundry and the polishing of boots to serve as any distraction. All of her duties were finished for the night and she knew it was time to call home. Claire bit her lip as she flipped up the monitor and her finger went hesitantly to the speed dial menu. She took a couple of deep breaths to steel her courage and she finally scrolled down to the number for her father's office. She wasn't really sure what the problem was or why she was nervous. After all, she was doing well at ICT and would soon swing by the score board to check on the latest contests. For nearly a month now though, she had stood on her own…really on her own and she was beginning to find a taste for it. For the first time in her life, no one was calling principals to get her out of trouble, no one was paying for the best tutors or the best coaches, no one was _guiding_ her success for the family honor. If she passed or if she failed, it was on her.

Realizing that her trepidation was pure nonsense, Shepard stabbed the touchscreen and the symbol of the Systems Alliance appeared. There was a moment of indecision and she reached for the disconnect button, but the image of her father replaced the symbol. His gold admiral's epaulettes on his blue uniform reflected the overhead lights. Gold trim and cord adorned his double breasted coat. He was the picture of martial perfection. As he would to a subordinate, his gray eyes showed no emotion as he nodded a curt greeting.

"It's about time, Claire." The voice was strong and stern as always. Nothing had changed in twenty years.

Her cheeks flushed hot and she broke eye contact. "I'm sorry, sir. This is the first down time I've had since arriving. It's quite…it's quite busy." She was embarrassed at having to make excuses for doing her job, but she could do nothing else with him.

"Hmmm, I can imagine. I trust you are excelling at your training?" This was not truly a question.

"I am, sir. I was going to take a look at The Board later this evening before lights out." She kept her answers short and to the point. No sense inviting further scrutiny.

"I've run some of the numbers. It looks like your competition is quite fierce, but you're a Shepard."

As the Director of Alliance Intelligence, she knew he had examined the character, wit and spleen of every trainee here, as the Duke of Wellington would say. "Yes, there are many…excellent people here."

"You do understand that you will be the first ICT graduate in the family, yes?"

"I do."

"And you also understand that bringing home the honor graduate will open many doors for you, yes?"

She allowed herself a stray thought. _Open doors for which of us?_ "I do, sir."

"Very good. Carry on." The screen went dark.

She mouthed _goodbye_ to the blank monitor and then closed the device. It was the same ending to a hundred conversations. She thought about calling her mother, but it would only be seen as whining by the Director. She willed herself to envision a time when their relationship could even be construed as _normal _and she could see him, years ago, carrying her in his arms as they walked across fields named in the history of mankind: Waterloo, Kursk, Gettysburg, Towton and dozens of others. The history of the Shepards was reflected in the history of the great nations, he told her. One day, she would carry this sacred mantle, he would say with a fatherly smile. What had happened since then?

Claire put the vision away in her foot locker along with her comm device. She turned to see Amanda watching her from the next cot. The marine had likely heard everything and her expression was not one of scorn or derision, but one of pity. No one looked down at a Shepard and she did not need anyone's pity. Without a word, Claire got up and left the barracks. It was time see who was leading the pack.

After a short walk, Shepard looked at The Board, studying the latest scores for N Class 76-06. There were only Forty Two left and even the women's barracks were getting pretty scarce with Fourteen trainees. They could now spread out, having a bit more space and privacy, which was a welcome thing. She ran her finger down several of the monitors, seeing that she was still the top marksman, tops in academics and second in all of the physical training scores. "It pays to be a winner," she said to herself, repeating the mantra that her father had drilled into her since before she went to school. Her father's shadow had always been cast over the family, blotting out her kinder, gentler mother. Somehow, his words seemed a little hollow now. John Michael Shepard had never been to ICT. He was a man of power, privilege and intelligence…but he had never been to ICT.

"Don't worry, you're still up at the top," a man said. It was Adam. "You sure came prepared for this course. Me, I'm just trying to survive." He rubbed his right shoulder, wincing at the very touch.

Initially irritated at the interruption, Shepard took a breath and then relaxed. "No, you're doing fine, Adam. You've come a long way." Her voice sounded mechanical and the encouragement forced and she knew it. The edge of disdain was clear – he was only here because she had taken some of her valuable time to save him form being Boarded.

Still, the young man seemed to take it graciously. "Thanks. I…uhhh, I appreciate you helping me out on the range this past month. I was never a great marksman."

"So, why did you try out? I mean, you could've just stayed where you were."

"My dad was a veteran. He served under Grissom in the First Contact War. Helped liberate Shanxi. I got a lot of pressure riding on me. I want to…I really want to do something to make them proud."

Shepard snorted out a chuckle.

LaRosa cocked his head, seemingly insulted. "Pardon me, was that funny?"

"No, no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insinuate that your family was funny. I just…I just can identify. My mother is the XO on a dreadnaught and my father…he's the Director of Alliance Intelligence."

"Whoa…wow, yeah, that is a ton of pressure."

A cynical laugh escaped her. "It pays to be a winner. It's what my dad always said. It pays to be a winner."

"I'm beginning to see why-" Adam began, but stopped short.

"Why? Why what?"

He looked away. "Uh, nothing. Nevermind."

"No, you started it. You have to tell me." _See the hill, take the hill_.

He sighed. It was obvious that he knew that she wasn't going to like it. "Why you are the way you are," he said and then walked away before she could form another question.

She watched him go, wanting him to clarify that statement, but afraid of what he might say. For years, the only opinion she cared about was that of her parents. According to her dad, everyone else could go to hell. Still, LaRosa's thoughts mattered to her and she wondered why she had helped him out this past month. It was of no benefit to her in her pursuit of glory. It must surely have been the sleep deprivation that they were all suffering. She grunted sourly and turned her eyes back to The Board and what really mattered. "I can catch Shan on the longer runs and that should put me ahead of him on the PT scores. I'll have to best him in the individual combatives too. I'm going to win this one."

The whole thing was within her grasp. There were two months to go, but she could feel herself gaining on Shan. That blockhead would never rival her in academics. It could be done. It would be done. She turned to head back to the barracks, but she stopped and glanced further down The Board. Up until now, anyone behind her didn't matter so why waste the time? Her finger stopped several places below hers and she saw that both Richardson and LaRosa weren't too far behind. For a moment, she felt like a fool for helping him out. Just as she began rethinking her charity the sound of automatic gunfire rang out and Claire's eye shot wide open.

"What the…." How were they under attack? Earth was supposedly quite safe. An explosion rocked the area and a gout of flame shot high into the night air. She inhaled deeply, feeling the heat and wind on her face. For a moment, she was frozen with confusion.

"You there!" someone shouted, "Yeah, you with your thumb up your ass!" It was one of the cadre, Grimaldi. "Get over here and get with your group!" A crate exploded behind him, casting a devilish glow around his dark form as yellows and oranges blossomed behind him. "Are you stupid? Get moving!"

Shepard blew out a sigh of relief. This was part of the training. She sprinted past him to the barracks where she saw complete chaos. Instructors were screaming as some trainees pumped out pushups, some lay on their backs in the mud, lifting their legs in the air, still others swung from obstacles, clinging to rings and rungs. Hartmann, in the middle of the chaos, wheeled around to face Shepard. "What are you doing? Maybe you'd like a little tiara, princess? Get the fuck down in the mud and join your team!"

Shepard ran to find a spot on the wet ground, passing Amanda, whose face was straining with every leg lift and was shouting, "More PT, sir, more PT!" Claire landed with a splash next to Amanda and began flutter kicking her legs in the air. Yelling, screaming and gunfire filled her ears to the point where she couldn't even hear herself think.

"You think this is bad?" Hartmann shouted. "Wait till you go to war! You will think this is a party once you meet the turians and batarians in battle!"

With only flashlight beams and the light from explosions to see by, Claire could barely tell who was around her. Hartmann's voice sounded above the din. "Get up by squad and sound off!"

Where the heck was everyone? Bodies ran too and fro, nearly witless. Someone grabbed her – it was Amanda. "Stick together. Find LaRosa and Schott, I'll grab Kim and Androv. Then, we'll worry about the rest."

Shepard jumped up to scan the stampede. She was a tall woman so she picked out her two teammates right away and waved them over. Amanda grabbed the other two and they quickly built up to their team of eight and did a head count. "All present and accounted for!" Shepard called.

The cadre swooped down on them and threw blindfolds over their eyes and tied their hands behind their backs. They were then hustled over to a platform where the sound of a shuttle's engine hummed. "Someone will help you on board. Then, sit down and shut up! No talking!"

Hands grabbed them roughly and hauled them into the shuttle. A moment later, the engines increased in pitch and the sensation of flying took over. The desire to question nearly overwhelmed Shepard and she took a deep breath to speak, but her thought was cut short as if someone had read her mind.

"Any trainee who speaks," Hartmann said coldly, "I'll throw their ass out of my shuttle personally. What, no takers?"

In a few minutes, the engine noise quieted and they seemed to be hovering. Below, they could hear the sound of crashing waves. Shepard's breath quickened. What on earth were they doing?

"All right! Step up. Step up to the door! Follow my voice!"

There was sound and movement as the trainees stood. "LaRosa, good," Hartmann said. "Now get the fuck out of my shuttle." There was the sound of a boot kicking someone in the ass, a scream and then the sound of something hitting the cold dark ocean.

A horrible cold prickly grew in Shepard's gut. It could be argued that she was one of the strongest and fastest human beings alive today, but this…this was insane.

"Next!"

Someone moved forward. "Richardson, get the fuck out of my shuttle!" A boot, then a splash.

"Next!"

There was thrashing next to Shepard. "No! No! Leave me alone!" It sounded like Schott. "I can't do this!"

"There are only two ways off this shuttle. Out the door…or ring the bell!"

There were gasping breaths and a pained grunt. "I'll ring the bell. I'll ring the bell." All became quiet as someone snipped the restraints from Shott's hands.

"All right, son. Take off your blindfold and go to the back and sit down. We'll get you a hot meal and a warm bed. You'll be going home tonight."

Someone grabbed Shepard by the strap of her tank top and pulled her forward. "And what about you, golden girl? You want a hot meal too? I can arrange that."

It was as if someone were sitting on her chest. She fought to stop shivering and stop her teeth from chattering. She was so cold. And what the hell was down there? What the hell were they jumping into? For a moment, she envisioned a bowl of hot soup and then her mother's forgiving face. Mom would understand. Father though…she couldn't face father. "I'm going! Show me the way!"

"Good on you! Now get the fuck off my shuttle!" She took a boot to the ass and the feeling of falling took over. Terror ran through every fiber of her being for a moment until she hit the water. She pumped her legs, propelling herself back up, her head breaking the surface. She took a deep gulp of air as another splash sounded nearby. Which way should she go? Ocean spray pummeled her as surge lifted her over a crest.

"Over here! Over here!" she heard LaRosa shout over the pounding of the waves. She kicked her legs in that direction, meeting some of the others enroute.

"Which way do we go?" she asked, trying to keep her mouth above water.

A wave crashed over them and they kicked back to the surface. "This way!" LaRosa called. "The waves are going this way to the shore." They kicked for all they were worth. Timing the waves, they barreled into the sand, scrambling and crawling up the shore until the waves could pound them no more. Shepard lay there, sand in every orifice, spitting grains out of her mouth. She heard coughing all around her along with groaning. Someone yanked her up and snipped off the restraints.

"Take off your blindfold."

She removed the bindings over her eyes to see the other trainees doing the same. Several of the cadre stood nearby along with a crate and a machete stuck in the sand.

Hartmann turned his flashlight in her eyes and she winced, holding her hands over her face. "You made it. The ocean is without mercy and so am I, but you made it. Now welcome to the suck. See you back at the Vila," he said and turned to go, waving the other cadre along.

"Wait," Shepard said. "What's going to happen?"

He turned back with a smirk. "Who knows? You must adapt. You must thrive no matter the situation. Any true cadre will." In the blink of an eye, he and the other instructors faded into the forest like ghosts, the light from their flashlights dimming into darkness.

Shepard's teeth were chattering like jackhammers as she felt around for the others. There were seven. "Schott rang the bell," she told the team. She heard the sound of the crate opening and the crack of plastic. A dim green glow illuminated LaRosa's face.

"Glow sticks," he said as he dug into the crate. "Maybe a couple dozen more. Compass, map, a bag of trail mix…rope…some pocket knives and a first aid kit. We have no idea how far it is back to the Vila." He pulled out the map and put the compass on it. "I think we go this way," he said, pointing off in the distance.

Claire peered over his shoulder. "That looks about right. Let's get going."

"Whoa, wait up," Amanda said. "This may be about a week's trek. We'll burn through those glow sticks in one night. We should wait until morning."

LaRosa nodded. "Yeah, let's use this stick to dig some shelter and gather our resources. We'll hunker down until morning."

Claire felt a tinge of anger at having been overridden. Damn cowards. She would have argued but for the gnawing hunger in her stomach. That swim took everything out of her. If she could only have a bit of that trail mix. Soon, that genetic superiority would become a liability.

**CODEX:**

Boarded – Washed out of the training by the cadre


	4. Chapter 4

**W/N - **I'm trying to weave in the action and the character development. We'll see a bit of the other teammates and even hear a bit from Hartmann. And, there's always a guy in every crowd who has to one up you. Thank you very much for all of the attention and ideas. Codex at the bottom.

I got my N7 banner in multiplayer!

**In the Bush – 04 March 2176, 0647 hours**

Claire woke up shivering, grit and sand in her mouth and dried seawater covering her face that had become a crusty film on her skin. Her clothes were still soaking and a dark, empty pit had developed in her stomach. It was still manageable, but in another 24 hours it would be…well, it wouldn't be pretty. Some of the others were just stirring. She took one of the bottles of water and took a long drink, swishing it around in her mouth. Nearby, Amanda was wiping her eyes and then she looked over. "Hey, we better get going. We're all tired and there's a long way to go and we have no idea what's in store for us."

Their teammate, Kim, a big Korean from Pyongyang, stretched his burly arms and snorted. "Hah, that swim was nothing. I do that back home for fun. And Hartmann, he don't scare me. I say bring it on," he said, pushing his chiseled chin forward.

Amanda just rolled her eyes and the team gathered up the supplies and wrung out their wet clothes as best as they could. LaRosa handed out tiny mouthfuls of trail mix to everyone and Claire practically inhaled her ration, but it was like feeding a chicken nugget to a hungry bear. Still, she was grateful for even this small morsel. As they turned to go, she took a last look out towards the surf. They were damn lucky they didn't drown last night – the ocean was rough with some waves topping eight feet. Still, she couldn't help but admire the raw natural beauty of the scene, deep blues covered in white sea foam under a cloudy gray sky.

"Don't you just love the call of the gulls?" It was Adam.

"I was a spacer kid. Grew up on ships. It's not something I'm use to."

"San Diego for me. Gulls and sealions everywhere I looked. I love the ocean."

She nodded, looking off into that endless blue, the vastness of the sea making her feel small and insignificant. It was a feeling that she found surprisingly pleasant. Somewhere that she could hide and never be found. "Hey Adam, you think my dad would forgive me if I just sat down here and didn't return with you guys? You know, they could just drop off the bell here on the beach and I'd ring it."

"I'd be tempted to join you. We could do a little fishing, harvest some coconuts…eh, wouldn't be bad at all."

Claire pointed a little way down the beach. "There, that would be our shack. No vids, no comms, no pressure. Maybe I'd write a letter home from time to time, throw it out to sea in a bottle."

"Hah, that I'd love to see. I'd need something to talk to my folks with from time to time. My dad, he's my rock. Doesn't say much about the war, but when he talks, I listen."

"What did he do there?" This time the interest was genuine.

"He was one of the marines under David Anderson's command. They came in fast and hard back on Shanxi, hit the turians where they least expected it. The birds completely underestimated us. I can tell that my dad has a lot of pride in what he did and he speaks glowingly of Commander Anderson. God, that was the one thing he could go on for hours about."

Claire wondered for a moment what it would be like to have a conversation with her father…a real conversation. She imagined a scene over breakfast, drinking coffee and eating eggs over easy with toast. He was wearing a yellow golfing sweater as he buttered the bread. _Hi dad, how's the weather?_ The whole scene collapsed after that droll intro, but that was all she could come up with for her fantasy bucolic life. What would they actually talk about if they ever did sit down? Projections of turian military expansion? Psyops targeting batarian extremists? Yeah, that was about it.

"I would…I would enjoy meeting your father one day," she said as she picked up grains of sand in her fist and then let them fall away.

"I think I would enjoy meeting yours."

She smiled and shook her head. "No you wouldn't," she said as she stood. "We should really get going as much as I would prefer to just lie down in the sand." The allure of having no pressure, no one telling you what to do or no responsibilities was nearly overwhelming.

He rose and hefted the bag of supplies over his shoulder. "Yeah, we better make the most of our daylight."

As they fell in with the rest of the team, Claire looked up, closed her eyes, listened carefully and inhaled the scent of the ocean breeze. "And, to answer your question, yes, I love the call of the gulls."

They trudged into the jungle, the Brazilian sun beginning to warm things up. Autumn would soon give way to winter down in the southern hemisphere and it would be getting a bit colder, but for now, Claire appreciated the warmth. Here, she could almost taste the musky dampness of the jungle as insects hummed and birds called nearby. LaRosa hacked through the thick undergrowth and the team automatically assumed a tactical formation, evenly spaced and not too close together, eyes scanning every quadrant. They had been through enough to do this without being told. It would be too easy to let their guard down now. After all, Hartmann had told them to expect anything.

A few hours into the trek, LaRosa wiped his dirt smudged brow and pulled out the map again. "Hey, I didn't see this before. I think it's a waypoint," he said as he sat on the jungle floor that was carpeted in fallen leaves. He placed the map on the ground and picked up a tiny stick, pointed it at a marking on the map. Claire looked over his shoulder and could see a red X on the map near the coast. "Okay, I think we're here," Adam said, indicating a spot in the jungle. "We've been walking northwest according to the sun." He pulled out the compass and handed it to Yuri Androv, the wiry kid from Kiev. "Here, take a reading."

Yuri hooked the compass ring on his thumb and began turning slowly in a circle. "If only we had my compass back at the barracks," he said in perfect English. "It's far better than this one. I mean look at it, just a ring and a needle. Mine has the GPS function, heart rate monitor-"

Claire shot him this look with part of her lip curled up with teeth bared and he stopped short.

"Okay," Yuri said as he looked away, "This is north. If we're here on the map, we need to walk about five miles at an azimuth of three zero zero. You guys are lucky you had me here. Maybe it's actually three zero one, but I'm sure my readings will get us there."

"That's not too far," Amanda said hopefully.

Kim seized the compass and held it up. "Here, give me that," he said as he shook his head. "Do I need to do everything?" He spun the compass rose and watched the needle settle. Then, he looked down at the map. "In this jungle, five miles could take us the rest of the day."

And it did.

**In the Bush – 04 March 2176, 2002 hours**

Night was drawing deeper with the odd sounds of jungle animals and insects growing louder by the minute. Claire found the noises a little strange, but found no fear in the din. After all, they were special forces candidates and not high school students on a campout full of made up horror stories. The one thing that did concern her though was the chill that was creeping in and the gnawing hunger in her gut. They each had another handful of trail mix just after dark, but that wasn't nearly enough to keep up with her caloric needs.

With just the dim glow of one lumistick to guide them, she could see a clearing up ahead. They entered cautiously, observing for any sign of life or any threat. Amanda took point, creeping out ahead of the team, keeping low to the ground and scanning the area. Just at the edge of any light, she took a knee and looked back, making signals with her hands. What she signed was universal to any Alliance tactical team and the group understood it immediately – there was a structure up ahead and it was occupied. She signaled for LaRosa and Shepard to advance. They left the lumistick with Androv and crawled forward, barely making a sound.

"What do we have?" Claire asked in a whisper as they crouched in the tall grass.

"Single story building made of concrete," Amanda said, pointing into the darkness. "I saw one, maybe two flashlights going on and off."

LaRosa peered in that direction. "Yeah, I saw a beam for a sec. Well, we're in the right place so this is part of the training evolution. What do you think?"

"Okay," Amanda whispered. "I'm point so I'll move ahead and get confirmation on the objective. You guys wait for my signal. You two should flank right and the others flank left." She was all professional confidence. It didn't sound like this was her first dance.

LaRosa nodded. "That's good," he said and it sounded like he was glad to have the decision fall from his hands. He let out a deep sigh of relief as Amanda crept forward.

Shepard had to admit that Amanda was lithe and light on her feet. The marine practically slithered like a snake up to the building, never making a sound. She stopped at an open window and then slid up just so she could see in. Shepard's breath stopped in her throat and she wiped a sweaty palm on her pants. Amanda turned back and made some hand signs.

_One man down inside, not moving. Mission appears to be rescue._

LaRosa looked over to Shepard, his face barely visible in the dark. "Okay, what do we do?"

Claire wondered for a moment how they put him in charge over her. She turned back to Androv and the others and waved them forward, giving them a signal to flank left. Without waiting for Adam, she crawled forward and then to the right, letting him scramble to catch up. She made eye contact with Amanda and the marine gave her more signals.

_I'm going in to extract the victim once everyone is in place. Cover me._

Shepard nodded. She wanted to be the one to go, but she had to admit that Amanda was good, someone who could lead. Claire and Adam moved into position while the others went around the left side of the building. They sat for a moment before Amanda signed that she was going in.

Shepard peered in through a side window and could see a dim light from a glowstick that lay near a prostrate figure. She gripped the sill tightly as Amanda inched forward, her head turning slowly from side to side, her eyes big as saucers. Who knew what would happen? The marine stopped and knelt down by the form and looked it over before picking up a data pad on the ground.

"All clear," Richardson said. "Come on in."

Both Shepard and LaRosa blew out a sigh of relief. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all. The team entered the building as Amanda rolled the body over.

"It's a mech," Claire said. "So, what's the data pad say?"

"You have captured a high-value asset from hostile forces. Enemy units will attempt to effect a rescue. Defeat all rescue attempts and extract the asset. Here, take a look, the coordinates are given."

Kim tried to take the pad, but Amanda pulled her hand away. "Hey, sit your ass down until I'm done." Kim gave her a look with one eye narrowed, but he did as he was told.

Amanda pursed her lips and looked back down to the pad. "Okay, if there is no further interruption, it says that we will find a pack…right over here," she said and looked under some matting on the floor. She pulled out a backpack and opened it up. She gave everyone a big grin and began tossing power daggers to people. "These won't harm a person, but they'll sure zap a mech. I think I know what's in store for us."

Shepard caught the dagger by the handle and made a few practice cuts and thrusts with it. It felt good, light and well balanced like the Fairbain-Sykes that she liked to carry with her on duty, a gift from her mother. "So," she began, "do we hold this defensible position or do we make for the extraction point and take our chances?

**In the Bush – 04 March 2176, 2132 hours**

"So, what _do_ you do?" Master Chief Hartmann asked the monitor that showed the scene unfolding in the building. He took a sip of coffee from a black mug that had the silver emblem of the sword, Excalibur, with golden wings, the symbol of the elite N's. He swung his chair around to another monitor in the training command post that showed a stack of dormant mechs. "Grimaldi, power them up, level three. They need a challenge. We'll frag their candy asses."

"Level three? Okay, got it, boss." Grimaldi rolled his chair forward to a rack of consoles and began pressing his finger on the touchscreens.

"And set in the batarian ROE. They need a little realism."

"Oh, that's sadistic." Grimaldi's finger slid over another touchscreen and then he laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back as green lights came on over the picture of each mech on the monitor. "So boss, what do you have against this class? Just asking. I mean, the last group we put through hell, but we've given these guys extra attention."

Hartmann pulled the brim of his blue ball cap down just over his bushy eyebrows. "When this gang gets spaced I don't want it coming back to me. I don't want anyone to say that my hallowed halls turned out a bunch rejects just because the brass told me to shuffle them through," he said without looking over. Yeah, he had gotten a few calls from a few admirals.

"I hear you, boss, but the brass say they need more N's out there. You know, good for the morale of the grunts."

This time Hartmann turned. "And that's the damn problem with the Alliance," he said as he stabbed his finger out. He pulled out a worn green notebook from his pants pocket and tossed it on the table in front of Grimaldi. "Take a look."

Grimaldi picked it up, a curious look on his face. "What, no data pad? You're old school, chief. Hey, these are some names from the last few classes. So what?"

"Dead. We didn't…I didn't give them enough when they were here. I let them down and I damn well won't do that to this bunch. They deserve more. When they leave…if they leave, every fucking batarian and pirate will tremble at the sight of them."

A cautious smile escaped Grimaldi's lips under his handlebar mustache. "So wait, you actually think this Shepard girl's going to amount to something?"

Hartmann scoffed. "Hah, that remains to be seen," he said, but he had seen something. She was a diamond in the rough, but every diamond was once a lump of coal.

The door to the command post opened and another of the cadre entered. "Grimaldi…boss." It was Powers. "Is the show about to begin?"

The chief waved him to a chair. "Yeah, have a seat. It looks like they're going to make for the extraction. Bold move."

Powers swung a chair around and sat in the reverse position, the chair back to his chest. "This'll be good. I remember this shit from my go in the Vila." He reached over to the rack of mugs and pulled a white one with a black C facing downwards and poured himself some coffee. "So, Grimaldi, you gonna get out and join that wetwork company, what do they call it…Cerberus?"

"You know, I'm thinking about it. They treat their people right. Lot's of opportunities for us SF types. You should think about it too."

Powers looked at his mug. "Yeah, they're really rolling out the red carpet for us – weapons, tech and the swag, always gotta love the swag."

Hartmann waved his hand, bringing all conversation to a halt. "Okay, shut up. Show's starting."

**CODEX:**

Fairbain-Sykes – dagger of the British commandos

ROE – Rules of Engagement

Swag - trinkets


	5. Chapter 5

**W/N - **Ok, another installment. I meant to do it in one, but more needed to be said. A little bit of action mixed in with some backstory. Maybe the alpha dog is beginning to wonder what the kennel is all about. Also, a little bit of multiplayer batarian tech thrown in. I've got some other weird fic ideas brewing too. ME 2 Sgt Gardner/Kasumi ramen cookoff noodle nonsense. Niftu "Cannonball" Cal teams up with Blasto. "This One smells greatness in the house." I had a series of multiplayer gold matches were I was the last woman standing for most of the game. That needs a tale. I'm also contemplating picking up the lost daddy Shep/traitor in the ranks line in a post ME 1/pre ME 2, Liara gets back the body fic.

A heartfelt thank you to all who have joined and supported me. BaM for some great tips and for pushing me in the right direction. Padawan for inspiring me to write again. And everyone in Aria's wonderful Afterlife. Cheers!

**In the Bush – 04 March 2176, 2151 hours**

Branches and leaves slapped against Claire's face as she ran towards the extraction zone and victory in this evolution. She could just barely see Kim ahead of her, running with the mech over his shoulder. If all was going according to plan, Amanda would be on point, way ahead of the pack and the team's number six, DaSilva, would be bringing up the rear. Of course, even the most raw recruit knew that no plan survives contact with the enemy.

She took a furtive look back to see Yuri a few meters behind her. "Don't get strung out," she called back. _If we get separated, God help us._

According to LaRosa, they should have had a fifteen minute run to the zone, but it had been twenty minutes now and no end was in sight. With every few steps, Claire's sense of mild concern grew to worry. _Did Adam fuck it up?_ She was tempted to sprint ahead and take the map from him, but the plan was in motion.

Shepard's thoughts were shattered by a piercing scream at the rear of the line that sent birds fluttering in panic. She stopped and turned, wide eyed, searching behind her. Yuri ran past her without looking back and she tried to grab him, but he darted around her. "Wait!" In another second, he was gone, slapping branches out of his way. She was all alone in the silent jungle.

"Fuck…fuck," she whispered as she crouched, drawing her dagger. She looked quickly forward and back and then bit her lip. Another scream tore the air. It had to be DaSilva. He groaned weakly. Then, another scream. Claire's gut tightened ten notches. _What the hell happened?_

She looked forward again and took a step away from the sounds of her injured teammate, but Amanda pushed through the bushes, holding her dagger and a glowstick. "Shepard, what the fuck's going on?" Her eyes were huge and her teeth clenched. She was just as scared.

"I think DaSilva's down. I thought you were on point. Where the hell is everyone else?"

Another agonized scream. Amanda blew out a long breath. "Everyone scattered. I came back to see what happened. We got to go get him. Come with me."

"But…."

The marine grabbed her by the arm. "No one gets left behind. No one."

Shepard grit her teeth but fell in behind Richardson. If LaRosa's planning had cost them this evolution there would be hell to pay. They both crouched down low and made for where the screaming had come from. Amanda knelt and held up a fist, causing Shepard to stop in her tracks. Claire held her breath, turning her ear forward, hoping for any sign of what had happened. She heard weak moaning up ahead.

"No…no more…please…."

She saw an arc of electricity through the branches and leaves and then another scream. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. Five mechs, made up to look like batarians, held DaSilva down and shocked him with stun wands. Shepard's skin prickled and a cold pit descended deep into her stomach. She had only read the intell reports and heard her mother's stories on the batarian raids on colonies, but seeing this simulation brought home the horrifying reality of the cruelty and savagery of those attacks. Cold sweat ran down her face, causing her to wipe the back of her hand against her nose. More than a little part of her wanted to run.

Shepard was weighing her options when Amanda turned, her lip curled up in a near snarl. "We're going to get those fucking batarians. No one gets left behind. No one," she whispered.

"What about the objective?"

"Objectives change. Taking the fight to the enemy…that's an objective too. Okay, I'm going down the left side. You need to back me up on the right. We can each take out one, lickety split. Then, we'll have a fight on our hands. You ready, golden girl?"

"Yeah, sure…on you."

Barely making a sound, the marine shuffled forward until she was practically on the first mech. Before it could even look up, Amanda had plunged her weapon into its neck and its four eyes went dark. Shepard was right behind her, letting her training take over. From behind, she seized her mech by the top of its head and yanked back, sending her dagger into the base of its skull. Both machines buckled over and crashed to the jungle floor. The remaining mechs reacted, bringing weapons to bear. Amanda leapt at another mech, belting out a war cry that was born of fury and the mech turned and punched its weapon out. A stun wand landed hard on her side, but it didn't even slow her down. Shepard saw them crash together and go down hard before she had problems of her own.

In contrast to Amanda's ferocity, Claire was all guile. She feinted a thrust at the mech's face and was rewarded by a downward cut in return. She stepped into the arc of the cut and grasped the mech by the wrist and flung it over her shoulder into a tree. She just saw it pile into the trunk and fall limp before something moved in her peripheral vision. A nerve-shattering pain erupted in her arm and she let out an agonized cry. She turned just in time to see another thrust aimed at her head and she dodged under and tried to bring her dagger to bear, but her arm just hung limp. This mech was fast…too damn fast and it struck again before she could fully recover and the stun wand glanced off her leg, sending ripples of agony through her body. Shepard staggered away, nearly tripping, but she kicked at the mech's legs and caught it right at the knee, knocking it back. _I won't get another chance. _She took the dagger in her left hand and sprung up, catching the mech in the groin and dragging the blade up its body.

As the mech crumpled over, Claire staggered back, her arm and part of her leg numb. "Ahhh! Stupid, stupid!" she said painfully, chastising herself before she realized that Amanda was still stabbing the mech on the ground. The marine was nearly feral, her lip curled in a snarl, her voice coming out in guttural, raspy grunts. Claire hobbled over and seized Amanda's arm before the dagger could come down again. "Hey, hey! It's dead. Come on, Amanda, ease down. It's okay."

Richardson whirled on her, her brown eyes huge and her pupils only tiny dots. "What? What did you say?"

Claire released her arm and took a limping step back. "It's okay, Amanda. The mechs are down. We need to get DaSilva and get to the extraction zone."

"DaSilva? But…but the batarians? They will not take us, you hear me. I'm not going to let them take us!"

Shepard's face scrunched up and she narrowed her eyes. "Are you okay? These are just mechs, Amanda. There are no real batarians here. Come on, help me pick up DaSilva."

Amanda blinked several times as if she were just waking up from a nightmare. "Oh…oh, sorry. Yeah, sure."

Claire reached down and tried to get a grip on the unconscious trainee, but the nerves in her arm and leg screamed out and she nearly fell back. "Oh God, dammit it hurts. I'm sorry…I can't help you. You've got to carry him." She looked away for a moment, her face blushing red.

The marine seemed to come around and focus. She bit her lip. "_I can't_ is not something usually in your vocabulary, huh? No shame, Shep. When it comes to these batarians, just surviving is often enough," she said with a faraway look, her eyes almost glassy. She hefted DaSilver over her shoulder with a grunt. "Okay, let's get to the extraction zone. We still need to get you that honor grad medal, huh?" she added with a smirk.

Shepard shook her head with a cynical chuckle. "Yeah…for daddy, sure. I…nevermind, let's go."

Claire hobbled as fast as she could behind Amanda. She tried a quick sprint, but for the first time in her life she wasn't the fastest. She snarled in frustration at her body not doing what science intended it to do. Something had to be done. Something for the mission to succeed. "Go on," she told Amanda. "I'm just slowing you down. You can make it."

The marine stopped and turned back, a half grin spreading across her lips. Whatever had happened back there, she was back to her old self. "Holy shit, golden girl, did I just hear you right? I appreciate the offer as part of me did want to see the shit kicked out of you, but no one gets left behind, remember. No one. Now, come on. You can make it."

In spite of herself, Shepard had to smile. They continued on, painful step after painful step. In a few minutes, it seemed that the blood and adrenaline began flowing back into her limbs and she picked up the pace, merely limping now. All the while though, a question burned through her mind. "So, Richardson…uh, what happened back there? You were like…fucking possessed."

Amanda slowed and her shoulders seemed to bow. She blew out a long breath. "Wow…uhhh, you ever hear of a place called Mindoir?"

Pieces of a puzzle began to fit together. "Yeah, batarians…. You were _there_?"

There was a dark chuckle. "Yeah, I was there. Six years ago…I remember it like it was yesterday. I was just a snot nosed corporal back then, a year out of basic. Fuckers hit the colony like a storm, falling on those helpless people. We had never seen anything like it."

Claire nodded. "After the First Contact War, we were all geared up to fight turians. Wrong battle, wrong equipment, wrong tactics."

"Yup. We were all hot to trot, thinking we'd kick ass and take names like we did on Shanxi. I came in on the second wave from _SSV Hornet_. I landed in the middle of a shit storm. Batarians had hit us with stuff we'd never seen. The marine just ahead of me off of the shuttle got taken out by a swarm of flying blades. He came apart like…like a melon. It could've been me."

"My mother was there. _SSV Einstein._"

"So, at least you've heard then. We were pinned down right away…worse than what you see on those old movies…you know, D-Day, Normandy and all that jazz. Anyone even trying to advance got cut to pieces. I can still see the platoon NCO, standing there like he thought he was freaking immortal, yelling, 'Get your asses up. Over the top. Over the top,' until he got hit by some kind of net. Crushed the life out of him."

"How'd you make it out?"

"I buried my head in the sand. Pretended I was dead. Stifled my sobbing so no one could hear over the screaming and the moaning and roar of artillery," she said and then turned back once again. "Fuckers took a lot of people, but I never saw it. Too damn scared to look. I tell you one thing, golden girl, that will never happen again and no one gets left behind, you hear me? No one."

"Yeah…yeah, I hear you."

Amanda gave one stern nod and then moved on again. They hadn't taken more than a few steps when another agonized scream rang out from a distance ahead. Shepard's blood ran cold again.

"The extraction zone!"

**CODEX:**


	6. Chapter 6

**W/N - **Up front, thank you so much everyone for support and for input. One of the nice things about ff is being able to just try something out and see if it works. Thanks to Aria's wonderful Afterlife, the home of so many good writers. Okay, let's look at the end of this training evolution. Mostly action, but some character building. One of the moves that the Chief uses is _nikkyo_ a wrist lock and the other is _kokyunage_, basically a throw over your leg from Aikido. The next chapter will bring out more evolutions, including one force on force where they fight another trainee team.

Other projects in the pipe - a one shot quarian engineer defending her ship from geth boarding during the battle for Rannoch. Part 2 of Live By the Sword, the Phoenix Adept. Maybe a parody of the Diana Allers romance achievement, but with Niftu Cal. Also, I had the worst...yes, the worst team for a multiplayer silver Collectors match and it might be worth a fic. I did have a several moment of glory carrying a team on gold reapers with my human female infiltrator, Heather. The Indra X liquifies Brutes in one magazine.

**In the Bush – 04 March 2176, 2223 hours**

Claire limped along behind Amanda, trying to keep up, but the marine was still faster even with DaSilva draped over her shoulder. They broke into the clearing where the extraction zone should be and Claire stopped short. It took her a moment to process the scene, but when she did, she saw Chief Hartmann holding a stun wand, standing over the trussed up forms of her team. Amanda tried to set DaSilva down, but Hartmann moved like lightning, slashing his stun wand across her temple. The marine went down with an agonized cry, holding her head with both hands.

Claire gulped hard and took a shallow breath, blinking heavily. She'd never seen him in action and, if anything, he was faster than her. She shook her leg and arm, willing blood and feeling back into her limbs.

"It's just you and me now, golden girl, all by our lonesome. You look hurt. You gonna call a time out with the batarians?"

Shepard forced down the growing chill in her gut and slowly slid her dagger from its sheath. Her right arm ached, but she could still do some damage. _If I'm going to go down, I'm going down fighting._ She spun the handle in her hand, taking a reverse grip, blade opposite her thumb. She crouched and began to circle to the right, foot over foot. "Let's see what you got, old man."

Hartmann chuckled derisively. "Oh, you got spirit, sugar britches. So did they," he said, pointing to her comrades, bound and gagged like Thanksgiving turkeys ready for the roast. "Batarians would call them fodder. Nothing but meat. Work them till they'd beg for death."

Shepard beckoned with her open left hand. "Bring it."

The Chief advanced until he was just out of reach, jabbing playfully with his weapon. Shepard continued to circle, locking him in eye contact until all she could focus on was his dark eyes under brows like coils of razor wire. He looked away, seeming to lose interest in the contest and Shepard blinked. Then, he uncoiled like a cobra, lunging, thrusting right at her throat. Claire barely had time to sidestep, moving to the outside. She seized his elbow and twisted her hands, bending him forward. If she could only gain control of that elbow, she could end this.

The Chief yanked his forearm forward, loosening her grip and he stepped in, getting his leg behind hers. With a snarl, he flung her over his thigh, smashing her into the ground on her back. He cocked his arm for the finishing blow and dove down upon her only to have her boot slam into his face.

Hartmann rolled away and sprung up, wiping blood from his lip with his sleeve. Claire arched her back and then pushed up with her hands, landing on her feet.

"Lookit you," Hartmann said, baring his teeth. "Did daddy teach you that? You should just run now. Save yourself the pain."

Claire smiled just for a second before wiping it back into a tight lipped look of determination. "I'm not leaving my team." She began to bob and weave, moving her hands in front of her face, changing her grip to keep her enemy off balance. Hartmann threw a couple of jabs and their weapons met each time as Claire deflected it away.

_There's a pattern emerging._ Shepard feigned an opening and sure enough, _step, step, jab._ If she could time it just right, she could take his legs out right from under him the moment he took that second step. They circled another few feet and then the Chief made his move. He took a step and then another and Claire slid down on her butt and swung her legs together to scissors his ankle. Only, there was nothing there now.

Claire gasped and tried to stab upward to defend herself, but her wrist was seized and moved away to open her up like a box of chocolates. The Chief fell upon her like an avalanche, his elbow coming down square in the middle of her chest, knocking her breath clear out of her lungs. It felt as if her heart would explode. The edges of her vision went dark, but she brought her knee up hard and fast, right into Hartmann's gut. She thought she heard something crack.

The man grunted painfully, but twisted her wrist around until she saw stars and her dagger fell from her grasp. His other hand took her elbow and yanked her arm into an unnatural angle and she cried out, tears welling in her eyes. Before she could move, a boot slammed into her windpipe and she collapsed to her knees. A moment later, he was behind her, his arms wrapped around her neck.

"You gonna join them," he whispered into her ear. "Batarians gonna shove a piece of metal in your brain. Make you do all kinds of things. Horrible, degrading things. You won't even know who you are…what you are."

Claire did something she'd never thought she'd resort to. She bit his arm. He cried out, almost as much in surprise as pain. The grip loosened just enough for her to turtle her neck and slide under. She pushed away from him, coughing and choking, wheezing with every breath. She spat blood on the ground.

Hartmann rubbed the bite and chuckled. "All right, golden girl. Enough for the night," he said and then pointed to her teammates. "You survived, but you all still failed the evolution. And there will be consequences. Powers, cut them loose."

One of the cadre, big and bald with a goatee, went over and cut the bonds from the team. They groaned and rose slowly, rubbing their wrists and ankles. The Chief raised his hand. "Code red. End ex," he said and then walked over to a crate. He opened it and pulled out packets. "You see this. This is the price of failure." He opened each packet and poured the contents on the ground, energy bars, oatmeal, trail mix and some other nutritious things and he ground them into the mud with his boot. "Hope you all weren't hungry this evening," he added, wincing as he held his side.

Claire massaged her throat and watched as each morsel was crushed into muddy goo. A deep growl rumbled in her stomach and she was half tempted to dive in and stuff the mess into her mouth, muck and all. Still coughing, she staggered over to Amanda and helped her up. "You okay?" she asked in a raspy voice.

The marine wobbled for a moment. "I'll be fine," she said and then put her hand on Claire's shoulder. "Hey, you did good. Don't let Hartmann get to you. You almost kicked his ass."

Claire half laughed, half coughed. "Thanks. Let's go check on the others." Arm in arm, they wobbled together and sat with the team, each of them exhausted to near delirium. Androv and Kim sat, their faces down and sullen while LaRosa nodded to them quietly. Another guy lay on his back, moaning. Claire never bothered to learn his name. He'd probably ring the bell soon so what was the point? They went over to DaSilva and he was shaking uncontrollably.

"You okay, DaSilva?" Amanda asked, pulling his head up and looking into each of his eyes.

He shook his head. "No…no, I'm done. Get me out of here. I'm done," he said in a deathlike monotone, his eyes glassy and unfocused. Powers came over and helped him up, escorting him away.

Shepard gave DaSilva a pat on the back as he shambled off. She was too tired to care, but it seemed the right thing to do. Then, she slid down on her butt and slumped backwards, closing her eyes with her arm over her face.

"Don't think that this is over yet," Hartmann called, standing over them. "You all sit and reflect on your failure. I want your After Action Report in fifteen minutes. Then, you might want to think about finding defensible terrain and setting watch. You know, shit good operators would think about. But, since you all are idiots, go ahead and drift off to sleep. We'll see what happens. It'll be fun."

Claire opened her eyes and sat up with a groan. Every fiber of her being was in agony and now that the adrenaline was wearing off, a deep chill was settling into her muscles. She looked up into Hartmann's eyes and he did something unexpected. He pursed his lips and gave her a nod.

"All right, carry on!" he bellowed and then walked off.

She didn't quite know what to make of that. In another moment, she didn't care. All she wanted to do was get warm and fill her belly. Maybe ringing that bell wasn't so bad. Maybe Admiral John M. Shepard could go fuck himself.

**CODEX:**


	7. Chapter 7

**W/N - **This one got kind of longish. Thank you all again and thank you to MP for some great SF atmosphere advice. Let's look at another training evolution along with some character building. And, in this time period, I imagine that there is still a lot of bad feelings towards turians. Also, look for Grimaldi and Powers in the next installment of Live By the Sword.

**In the Bush – 06 March 2176, 0351 hours**

There was enough crust in Claire's eyes and mouth to bake a cake. She sat up slowly with a groan, wiping her face with the back of her dirty hand. A quick look around and she saw that it was still dark, a slight breeze flapping leaves and branches around her in the dense jungle. _But what day is it?_ Days and weeks were just blurring together now in one long chapter of pain and fatigue. There was a buzzing sound and she slapped another mosquito on her ear and forced her teeth to stop chattering. A dull ache crawled through her jaw, a sure sign that she'd been chattering all night. With shaking hands, she searched through her pack to find a glow stick and she snapped the glass tube inside the plastic casing to mix the chemicals that would give her some light. A dim green glow spread outwards from her hands right onto the face of Master Chief Hartmann, who was standing over her, hands on his hips.

"Fuck!" Claire yelled in surprise and bolted up, immediately taking a fighting stance.

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey. You're dead, golden girl. Turians slit your throat as you slept," Hartmann said, an edge of amusement in his voice. Groans wafted up from around the makeshift camp as the other trainees started to rise. "And the rest of you, all dead too. Damn shame. Your polished skulls will look real nice on some primarch's desk. Aww shit, a drunken elcor could've done you guys."

Claire's heart was pumping a mile a minute, pushing the cold and the hunger out for a brief while. She held her combat pose, weight on her back leg, fists covering her face. She thought that, any second, a horde of mechs would descend on them.

Hartmann waved his hand dismissively, chuckling as he would to a child's antics. "Dead women can't fight back. You're lucky all of your fuck ups are happening here. At the Vila, life is demanding. Out there," he said, pointing up at the stars, "it's unforgiving."

With sudden intensity, he wheeled back to face Shepard. "And where the hell do you think you are, anyway? Some goddamn spa? Getting your beauty rest? Everybody, drop and punch em out!"

"Down!" the group called out in unison, everyone scrambling into the plank position. "One, two, three, one! One, two, three, two!"

"In case you didn't know," the master chief bellowed over the chanting and strained grunts, "this is a course for warriors! This is not summer camp. There will be no popcorn. There will be no romantic hikes. There will be no goddamn ghost stories in the cabin. Here, I will teach you to kill faster than your enemy kills you or I will kill you trying. Now, roll over on your backs! Flutter kick!"

The group flipped over, backs in the mud and began swinging their legs up and down. Claire's arms were burning and her abs ached after several minutes. She looked around to see the pain on everyone's faces. Kim looked like he was ready to pass out, the big man's body being built for brute strength and not stamina. "Feeling tired? Feeling sore?" Hartmann asked with mock concern as Kim's legs touched the ground. The master chief fell on him like a ton of bricks. "Did I tell you to rest? Did I, you big gorilla?"

"No, master chief!" It came out more like a constipated grunt than anything else.

"Then get em back in the air!"

Try as he might, Kim's legs flopped around as if he were a newborn. Hartmann stood impassively as Kim cried out in pain and frustration. "I can't, chief!"

The master chief dug the toe of his boot in the mud and flipped brown goo onto Kim's face. "Your legs gave way and you just fell out of the shuttle because you're weak. And guess what? You just got all of them killed too because you couldn't hack it," he said, pointing to the rest of the team. "You think that's a good thing?"

"No, master chief!"

"Then get em back in the air!"

Kim squeezed tears from between his eyelids that were clamped down tight. Slowly and shakily, his feet left the ground and came back up. "I got it. I got it," he said in a moaning wheeze that sounded like he'd been kicked in the nads.

Hartmann seized Kim's nose and twisted it. "I see you slacking again and you and me, we gonna have words." He pushed Kim's head down into the mud and then stood. "There is no failure here. If you don't like it, get the hell out of my vila. All right, recover!"

"Recover!" the group sang and sat up with moans and groans, some rubbing their legs and arms.

Hartmann threw a data pad at LaRosa, who caught it with one hand. "New orders. Take your time. Why don't you guys cook up some breakfast, drink some coffee, take a dump, get in a shower and read the paper for a bit. I'll give you five minutes."

Shepard let out a long sigh and rolled her eyes. She grabbed a toothbrush and gave her pearly whites a once over as she tried to recall the previous day after all of the chaos. Oh yeah, they had marched through the jungle, jumpily reacting to every movement and every sound, thinking that it was an ambush. And it had rained all day and nearly all night. Cold water still dripped from her sweaty, filthy tank top and her pants and socks were still drenched. She wanted nothing more than to take off her boots and wring those socks out, but they were down to a minute and a half left to read the orders and figure out what to do.

"Okay, listen up," LaRosa said, kneeling down in the mud and reading the data pad. "Two hundred meters up the path is a station. There, we'll get the next evolution. We have…shit…five minutes to get there."

There was a moment of panicked silence before an eruption of activity. In the dim glow of a few sticks, trainees grabbed packs and slung gear over their shoulders before hustling through the jungle to the next destination. Shepard fell into the group as they jostled and slapped through bushes. As the aches in her arms and legs faded into painful fatigue she saw LaRosa just ahead of her. As tired and cold as she was, she was steamed.

"Hey, LaRosa, how the heck did someone get through our defensive line this morning, huh?"

"What? Oh, man, I'm sorry. I was just so tired."

She growled under her breath. "You were supposed to have set up the watch. You're the OIC, dammit."

"I know, I know. It won't happen again."

"It better not." Even though she had gotten this concession, she wasn't fully appeased. This guy just wasn't up to the challenge of leading the team. And this, in addition to the extraction fiasco…. Failure was not an option and Shepard was just about on the verge of mutiny here.

She sensed someone running behind her and she took a quick glance back to see Kim, the big Korean with his head shaved nearly bald. He looked about as stiff as a board, his legs still sore from the earlier exercise. "You're right, Shepard," he said through clenched teeth. "That guy is going to lead us to disaster. You and me, we need to take control before this gets out of hand."

She grunted her approval. "I don't know why they selected him. I mean, nice guy, but he can't lead."

"I think this is a test. You know, one from the cadre. They're waiting to see how we step up and fix this mess."

Claire felt bad about even thinking what she was thinking, but something had to be done. It really should have been her put in charge. Well, things would change soon. In another moment they entered a clearing where the cadre stood with another group of trainees. Hartmann stood with Grimaldi and Powers, their uniforms clean and pressed like they had just come from the dry cleaners. Hartmann adjusted his blue N7 baseball cap and pointed at his watch. "Tick tock, people. Get your asses up here." He jammed his finger at LaRosa. "Did I tell you five minutes and eleven seconds, did I?"

"No, master chief!" LaRosa yelled. "You said five minutes."

Hartmann turned his head sideways, pushing his chin towards Adam. "You know how many ways I could kill you in eleven seconds?"

"More than I could count, master chief!"

"That's right, shithead. At least you have some brains in there. Now this one," he said, poking his finger right on Shepard's forehead, "I don't know what the fuck is in there." He turned back and strutted over to a table with a rack of pistols set on it, barrels over gray metal rods. "Gather round. Make a circle," he ordered and both groups of trainees closed in around the chief instructor. "I don't know why I'm doing this…because you idiots will likely just shoot your own toes off, but the cadre and I have something special for you. Look here," he said and slid one of the pistols off of the rack. With confident hands born of countless years of training he held his trigger finger along the frame and pointed the muzzle at a solid wall. He looked into the loading port twice. "Safe and empty," he said and then gripped the barrel with his free hand and held the pistol out to Grimaldi. Grimaldi followed the same ritual exactly as the master chief had done.

"Safe and empty." Grimaldi handed the pistol back in the same way.

Hartmann took the weapon and held the muzzle straight up. "All right, you undeserving chowderheads, what I have here is a Karpov Mark Ten, courtesy of Rosenkov Materials." There were sighs and grunts of approval in the ranks. Shepard just had to admire the blunt brutality of its design. It looked like a bulldog with a trigger. "It just pains me," the chief continued, "pains me to have to give each of you one of these. And, you get to keep it." He held one out to Claire, who stepped up eagerly and reached out for it, but he pulled it back. "On one condition…you survive the Vila."

He then held up a small metal cube as he aimed the muzzle at the wall. "Ammunition block," he said and then pointed to a port at the base of the handle. "Loading well." He pushed the cube into the port and pressed a small tab on the left side of the frame and there was a soft _click_. "Slide release. There's no real slide anymore, but we call it that for tradition sake. Weapon is hot." Then, in the blink of an eye, he reversed the process and pulled out the cube. He looked the weapon over. "Safe and empty." He held the weapon's handle out to Claire again and this time he let her take it.

"Master chief, where's the safety?"

Hartmann's face froze and then his lower jaw jutted forward as his eyes bulged and his face turned red. "What are you, golden girl, some kind of Noverian rent-a-cop?" He held up his trigger finger and then jammed it into her throat, causing her to cough. "This is your fucking safety…right…here! You are a damn special forces selectee. Don't press the trigger unless you mean to kill something. Got it?"

"Got it, master chief."

Hartmann became the picture of calm in another instant and he turned back to the rack. "Now, just because someone out there thinks that you're special, each of these weapons is custom made, the grip, the optics, the trigger action. There is a pistol on this rack for each of you. You will carry it from now on while you are here. It will become part of you. It will become part of your soul," he said, pacing back and forth like a prison guard. "Lose it and you lose your soul. Am I understood?"

There was a roar from the ranks. "Yes, master chief!"

He nodded, a mildly approving sneer across his lips. "Are you salty? Are you ready for the next step?"

"Yes, master chief!"

"Good to go. Now step up to Grimaldi and Powers for retinal scan authentication. They will give you holsters and your training kit. We can't have you lobbing real ammunition at each other yet. Now remember, each of these weapons is made for you and you alone and don't you fucking forget it."

"No, master chief!"

Shepard stepped over to one of cadre members who shined a light in her eye and then handed her a sleek black holster along with a lame-like vest and a laser mount for her weapon. "Wear this," Grimaldi told her, "it's like laser tag. Shoot the other guy and it disables his system. You get shot, same thing."

"You mean we're going to fight each other?"

Grimaldi winced. "Oh shit…uhh, yeah. Don't tell the master chief I said anything."

Claire held her index finger over her lips. "I won't say a thing. And, thanks," she said and then noticed a pin on his lapel with a familiar sigil, a 'C' facing downwards. "Hey, what's that?" she said, pointing to it. "I recognize that from somewhere."

"This? These are the guys who make your stock assault rifles…Cerberus. Civilian contractors, black ops kind of stuff. Now move along, Claire, there are others in line."

"Oh, sorry. And thanks again."

Claire shuffled along and snapped her holster to her thigh and stepped up to a clearing barrel, used to load and unload. Sure enough, the weapon fit her hand like a glove and the weight and balance was perfect for only her. It was like merely an extension of her arm. She slid the laser onto a mount with a _click_ and then stuffed the pistol into the sheath. There was also an earpiece in the kit, which fit right into her ear along with a radio that attached to her belt. Finally, a nice omni-tool came with the pack and slid right onto her arm. The other trainees were doing the same while soft murmurs, admiring the weapons, flowed through the crowd.

"All right, listen up!" Hartmann's voice came through, loud and clear, the sound of it like rolling naked in gravel. "We're going to have ourselves a little fun here this morning. The next evolution will be force on force," he said, to which Claire looked over to Grimaldi, making eye contact briefly until he looked away. "You'll notice that there are two teams of trainees here," he continued. "This morning, only one team will walk away. Each team will take their guidon to the rally point. The objective is simple…take the other team's guidon, return it to your camp. Any stupid questions?" he asked, looking right at Shepard. "None…good. The cadre will give you a data pad and shadow your movements. Follow the pad's directions. The victorious team will assemble for breakfast. The losers…hope you're not hungry."

Claire leaned back against a tree and blew out a long breath. The thought of eggs and bacon and coffee crossed her mind, God, anything hot and fresh…. She closed her eyes, dreaming for a moment of the _clink_ of silverware on china, the taste of butter on bread.

"Claire, hey Claire." It was LaRosa.

She opened her eyes and narrowed them. "What?"

He looked down and crossed his arms. "Sorry again. I'll get it right this time. We have to move though. We have ten minutes to get to the rally point."

She nodded. "Yeah, fine. Fuck, we have to win this one. I can feel my stomach eating itself," she said as the group began to move.

He chuckled. "I hear you. We're all starving out here."

"No, I'm serious. My genetics…I got the entire package from my parents, everything, including a huge caloric need to keep the whole machine running."

"Really? Wow, I didn't know. Hey, here," he said, digging into his dirty pocket and pulling out a small bag of trail mix. "Take it. I'll survive."

Claire looked down at the nuts and berries and bright M&M's and wanted nothing more than to stuff it all in her mouth. Then, a hot feeling of shame flooded her cheeks. "No, no…sorry I said anything. I'm just…just tired. I'm saying nonsense now. Come on, we gotta get ready to wipe out those Echo mopes."

He put his hand on her arm, the warmth of his touch almost invigorating. "You got it. Hey, man, you are freezing."

She held up her hands, barely controlling the shivering. "Cold hands, cold heart."

Along with Grimaldi, they ran the short distance to the camp where they planted their blue Delta Team guidon on a raised mound. The team gathered on the high ground, crouched down, weapons pointed outward to cover any approach. LaRosa scrolled through the data pad. "The other team's camp is up here," he said, using a stick to point at a map on the datapad. "We should set up ambush points here and here, along the tree line and just wait for them to come to us."

Amanda crawl-walked over. "Hold up a second, Adam. Hey, just hear me out," she said, just a hint of a Cajun accent beginning to show. "Well, guess what? That is exactly what they are going to be expecting from us, standard infantry tactics, fire and maneuver, ambush, and defense in depth. We meet them that way and we're just in a meat grinder."

Shepard's time with her father, however cold and distant, was well spent here. She could hear his voice talking about the horrors of trench warfare stalemate in 1916. "I think she's right. We need to go on the offense, bring the fight to the enemy."

She and the marine made eye contact and there was some kind of understanding among warriors. "You know your Napoleon, golden girl? _Toujours l'audace_…always bold. That's the way to win this."

Claire snickered at the reference. Yes, she knew her Napoleon, and her Leonidas and Alexander and Caesar among dozens of other historical figures that had been drilled into her since she could read. "_C'est vrai._"

Amanda grabbed Adam by the strap of his tank top. "Okay, here's the deal. We have to take and keep the initiative. You're going to lead us so let's go."

Adam looked back and forth to each of the team members. "Uh, okay. Who's with me?"

Kim stepped right up along with Yuri. Amanda was with them and no one was leaving Shepard behind. Adam pointed back to the guy whose name that Shepard could never remember. "Joe, stay back and out of sight. Ambush any of those punks who get near our flag."

"Got it."

Shepard chuckled inwardly. _Joe_. What a difficult name to remember. Maybe it would stick in her head this time. They were all experienced personnel so they moved swiftly and silently towards the enemy camp, pistols held low and close, scanning the bush for any signs of hostile activity.

Amanda pointed to the left. "Adam, take Yuri and Kim down the left flank. Golden girl and I will swing right. If all goes well, we'll pincer them. Wait for my signal and then hit them with everything you got. We go in hard and fast and get the flag. Then, we leapfrog back, by the numbers."

Adam snapped off a nod and then slid into the darkness to the left with the others, Grimaldi right behind them. Amanda took a quick azimuth reading with her omni-tool. "We head zero-one-zero for two hundred meters and that puts us on their right flank."

Claire felt a surge of confidence. There was just something to being around the marine. It was an intangible that she couldn't quite understand, but she thought that she might like it. For a moment, there was a realization that someone, somewhere, was actually better and smarter than she was. "Okay, lead on."

They took off at a stealthy sprint, barely making a sound over the moss and fallen foliage. Amanda stopped behind a thick tree and then peered around. "Adam, status?"

"Two mikes."

They were still a couple minutes from getting into position. "Slowpokes," Shepard commented dryly. "Hey, Amanda," she said in a whisper without ever taking her eyes off of the jungle, "Mindoir…that was pretty fucked up, huh? I'm really sorry."

There was a moment of silence. "Yeah, that about sums it up." Another silence and then a deep breath. "We thought we were all that and bag of chips after Shanxi. There was fear of the unknown and a whole big new galaxy full of other people, but hell, we kicked turian ass. There was a sense of euphoria in the service and we grew by leaps and bounds, much faster than we should have. And that meant marginal leaders in many places, bad tactics, and shoddy equipment."

"Yeah, I wouldn't use a Lancer I unless my life depended on it. Better to just sneak up and hit the guy over the head with the rifle. And what do you mean, _marginal leadership_? The Alliance would never allow that," she said in all seriousness.

Amanda nearly spat out a sarcastic laugh. "Oh, God, you're still young yet. Maybe I'll tell you a tale or two later. And what about you, golden girl? You seen any action…I mean against the enemy, not in the sack."

"Uh, no. I was a G-2 on the _Saratoga_ before coming here. Read a lot though. And, in the sack," she said with a quiet giggle. "Not lately, but these genetics…I, ummm, have needs."

"Hah, you and me both, sister. I can't wait to get out of here and back to my guy."

"I'm between relationships right now. So, tell me about your guy."

Amanda nodded, still scanning out in the jungle, her pistol held close to her chest. "Andre the Giant I call him…he's the best. He's a gunnery chief in the One o Fourth. Can't be in the same chain of command. Big, black, and beautiful, that's how I describe him."

"I like that."

Their earpieces cracked. "This is Adam, we're in position." Shepard sighed, disappointed that the moment was lost. It wasn't often that she just enjoyed someone's company.

Amanda punched her in the shoulder. "You ready, golden girl?"

"Born ready, jar head."

They slid along a line of bushy trees, avoiding the muddy areas, using the dead spaces of the jungle to move unseen. Shepard took slow, controlled breaths to keep her heartbeat even. She knew that she was running on adrenaline again and that they had to win this one. It wouldn't be too much longer before her body would start shutting down.

Amanda stopped suddenly and took a knee. She pointed off into the darkness and began making hand signals.

_Three hostile. Thirty meters. Defensive positions. Scanning for others. Prepare to attack._

**In the Bush – 06 March 2176, 0434 hours**

As he watched events unfolding on the monitors in the command post, Hartmann had to admit that Delta Team was doing just what he hoped they would do. "I'm training operators, not dirt watchers for ERCS." The monitor showed the yellow and red IR images of Delta Team splitting up, Adam LaRosa taking Yuri and Kim along with Grimaldi down the left flank of Echo Team. Two other figures advanced down the right and then stopped to take a position.

"You two…jabber jawing again. Well, at least you aren't doing your cat fighting anymore. God knows you all need to learn some teamwork." After a couple of minutes he saw Amanda and Claire creeping along the line of trees in the jungle. He wanted nothing more than to be out there with them, but more and more of his job was here, watching…directing. Being the Chief Instructor of The Vila was sometimes more of a pain in the ass than anything else and besides, he wasn't a young man anymore. These damn kids…many of them were less than half his age. "I can still whoop all of their asses though," he muttered.

He watched as Amanda and Claire snuck in on three from Echo Team. The Echoes were playing it safe, defense in depth, setting up ambushes, hoping to whittle the Deltas down before a counterattack. "Guys, that's great if you want colonial duty." Then, he saw laser flashes and one of the Echo's vest lit up. "One down." But only one. Claire's heat signature was dipping down into the purples and greens. She was too cold to hold the pistol steady. "Shit girl, what are you going to do in the mountain evolution? How bad do you want this?"

There was another series of laser flashes and another Echo went down. "That's it, Shepard, buckle down. The pain and the cold, it's all in your head." Then, a whole slew of Echoes emerged from a trench and laser lights shot back and forth, keeping the women pinned down. Two Echoes rushed for the flank. If the women didn't do something soon, they'd be fucked. And not in a good way.

Amanda's voice came over the radio. "Go now, Adam, go now!"

The three other Deltas came jogging in on the left flank. Amanda called again, "Dammit, LaRosa, hustle it up. Keep up the pressure. You gotta get in there and attack!" The three stopped for a moment, seemingly hesitant and one Delta got zapped.

Hartmann shook his head. "You shitheads waited too long and the enemy recovered." Adam's team tried to shift left and take cover, but another Delta went dark. Hartmann knocked a bag of nuts off of the counter in disgust. "Awww, you guys are screwed. I gotta see this for myself now," he said as he stood up and put on his N7 baseball cap. He picked up a photograph of himself with a younger woman and looked at it briefly. He was wearing his cap, but had a thick, bushy beard from his active operator days. He was hugging the woman, who had a big, toothy smile and wore the distinctive armor of the N7 corps. He sighed, put the picture back into place, and headed out the door into the field for the rest of the massacre.

**In The Bush - 06 March 2176, 0450 hours**

"Dammit," Shepard swore under her breath. The whole tactical situation had changed on a dime and now they were totally on the defensive. She popped her hand over a fallen tree trunk and fired blindly, hoping to keep the Echo counterattack at bay. She growled at their downturn of events. "Shit…Adam, come on!"

"Two coming down the right side," Amanda called as she fired, trying to draw lead on them, but they kept dodging in and out of the tree line, using the shadows to shield their advance.

"I got two in front! They're going to flank us in a moment."

The radio crackled. "Get ready! I'm coming to you!" It was Adam. There was a distant battle cry and the sound of laser shots coming from the left. Shepard could just make out Adam charging towards the Echo camp. He was dodging and rolling between the trees, firing at the run. The two Echoes in front turned to face the new threat and Amanda grabbed Claire by her ratty t-shirt, ripping it down the middle.

"C'mon! Now's our chance!"

Claire fell in right behind her. "_Tourjours l'audace!_"

The two flankers were way out of position now and couldn't get a shot off and it was three on two at the Echo camp. They sprinted right at the Echo position until the two saw them coming. "Break left, Claire!" Amanda shouted as she shoved Shepard over. Claire shifted directions just as the Echoes opened up. She could see them looking back and forth, trying to follow three attackers. Confusion was written all over their faces. Amanda rolled to the right and set up a base of fire, causing the Echoes to duck back in their trench for a moment. Shepard ran five more meters before they peeked back up and by then, it was too late for them. She and Adam leapt over the foxhole, nearly at the same time, firing down into the pit as they cleared the gap. Echo vests started flashing.

"Keep going!" Amanda yelled over the radio. "I've got your backs."

Claire hauled ass over to the camp and up to the Echo guidon and then stopped short. Her blood ran cold. Master Chief Hartmann stood nearby, hands on hips, his cap brim pulled down just above his wiry eyebrows. Her eyes opened big and she crouched down, pistol at the ready, her head swiveling to check for any new threats. Hartmann sucked his teeth, but didn't move a muscle. "What the fuck are you waiting for, golden girl, an invitation? Shit, grab the damn thing, will you?"

An involuntary chuckle escaped her lips and she snatched the pole in her hand. She thought she saw a gleam in his eye, but he shook his head and spat on the ground.

"This thing ain't over till you get that flag home. Maybe I'll eat your pancakes while you pull your thumb out of your ass. And I might suggest that you acquaint yourselves with the two angry Echoes who are still out there."

The radio crackled. "Coming to you." It was Amanda.

"Come up."

The marine ran up, glee written on her face. "Okay, we gotta go. Those fuckers are right on my ass."

The three sprinted towards home, running as fast as their mud soaked boots would carry them. On instinct, they began dodging around the trees to throw off the Echo's aim, but this had its own perils. "We're losing ground!" Shepard called. "They're gaining on us!" The sound of laser shots from behind confirmed her fears.

Adam veered a bit right. "Amanda, go left. Claire, keep going!"

"What?" Shepard called back. "No, you take it home, Adam."

LaRosa kept wheeling right as Amanda dashed behind a tree to the left. "You're the fastest of us, Claire. Keep going! That's an order, dammit!"

Claire dug deep and pumped her arms and legs, accelerating over the jungle floor, her feet splashing on the ponding water. Branches swatted her face, but she bulled through, oblivious to pain and fatigue. She blinked as she ploughed through a giant spider web and then there was something wriggly and squishy in her mouth. She spat that sucker out without slowing a beat. Those damn pancakes were so close she could smell the butter and maple syrup.

"Amanda's down, but we got one of them," Adam said over the radio. "Dammit, the other one got through. Keep running!"

Shepard grunted with the strain and gave everything she had for a final push when her foot sank into pit of mud and the guidon flew out of her hand. "Goddammit!" She yanked her leg upwards, but the mud refused to yield up her boot. "Fuck it," she groaned and reached down into the muck and pulled the laces of her boot followed by a filthy socked foot. A laser shot got her attention and she flung herself backwards onto the ground. Her eyes huge now, she scanned the jungle, pistol held in one hand, but no one was there. _I'm a sitting duck._ She rolled away and grabbed the guidon with her free hand and then dove behind a fallen trunk, laser shots sounding out from way too close. _Fuck, where is he?_ A cold pit formed in her empty stomach at the idea that she could still lose this thing and that vision of pancakes got a little bit dimmer. She put her pistol up over the trunk and fired randomly and then scurried behind another tree. A sudden thought came to her and she keyed her mike.

"Adam, where are you? Get up here now," she whispered and then tossed her headset and radio behind a tree and into the mud a couple of meters away.

"I'm coming! I'm on my way!"

From out of a nearby bush, the last Echo ran up and began firing at the radio. Shepard rolled out and put the crosshairs right on the side of his head and double tapped his ass. "Greetings, meatbag."

The Echo's vest flashed and then went dark and he pulled his headset off and hurled it into the mud. "Goddamit, you sneaky minx!" he cried and then sat on the ground just as LaRosa ran up.

Adam looked her up and down and then a big grin crept over his face. "You look like shit, Shepard, but you're the best thing I've seen all day." Then, he pointed to her chest. "And you might want to fix that tear in your shirt. You're kind of hanging out all over the place…not that I mind. I meant to tell you earlier, but we were kind of busy."

She looked down at one bare breast through a shredded t-shirt and torn bra. "Damn, I never even noticed," she said, trying to stuff herself back into place. "Heck, I'd do a pole dance in nothing but boots if it got me a hot shower and meal and a good night's sleep," she quipped and then handed him the guidon. "Here, you take it. You led us to victory."

He waved her off and looked down at his feet. "Nah, you earned it," he said and then pointed off in the direction of the Delta camp. "Well, shall we?" They took two steps before Grimaldi, Powers, and Hartmann entered the small clearing and crossed their arms. The two Deltas paused, unsure of what to do next.

Hartmann gave them a single nod. "Best you get back to camp and finish up. You don't want to keep Cookie waiting," he said, referring to The Vila's 'chef.' Claire reached down into the mud pit and finally yanked her boot free, mashing it back onto her foot, oozing goo out the top. She laced it up quickly and sprang back to her feet. They broke into a mushy run, the three cadre right with them. Hartmann tapped his omni-tool. "End Ex! Deltas, rally back at camp for chow. Echos, hope you like the bugs. There is no food for second place today. Victory is life."

At the run, the master chief turned to the two trainees. "Don't think we're done yet. While we're eating, you clowns are going to be formulating your After Action Report. Don't you dare think that this was a flawless op. We're going to look at every wart and pimple on your ass, but for now, you hold that guidon high. You hold it with pride."

Claire pinned the pole to her aching shoulder so that the pennant flew high, fluttering in the breeze. She kicked her knees up and there was a spring in her step. They passed into the clearing of the camp and she could just see a deep red haze on the horizon over the jungle canopy that illuminated a Kodiak shuttle and a picnic table covered in a checkered cloth. Behind the table, the grizzled cook was flipping flapjacks on a griddle and Claire kicked it into high gear. Nobody, but nobody was going to stand between Shepard and breakfast. Joe fell in with them and they were soon joined by Amanda, Kim, and Yuri, everyone sprinting to the finish. They all formed up into line in front of the table and Shepard took the guidon in both hands, pole diagonally across her chest. Hartmann, Powers, and Grimaldi swung around in front of them.

"The trainee would like to present the Echo guidon to the chief instructor," she said, holding it out.

Hartmann snatched it sharply and then set it in a rack next to the Delta pennant. "Accepted. Good work, ensign." It was the first time he had ever used her rank. Damn, it was the first time he didn't call her an idiot or something. "Now, you all don't look hungry enough yet. I think you need to work up an appetite. Drop and push em out!"

Claire took a longing glance at the eggs and sausage and bacon and the carafes of juice and milk. She dropped down with the rest of the team and was surprised to see Hartmann and other cadre diving down with them. "One, two, three, one! One, two, three, two!" they shouted, only the master chief was doing them one handed, with the other arm behind his back. Shepard watched this as she pumped her arms up and down and she hated the man just a little bit less.

"One, two, three, forty! All right, chowderheads, recover!" Everyone sprung back to their feet and Claire could see all of the china and silverware set on the table cloth, glasses of juice and milk were poured and heaping servings of pancakes and eggs and meat were expertly placed on each plate which was flanked by sauces and syrups and bowls of fruit. Tears nearly welled up in Claire's eyes.

Hartmann swung his leg over the bench and stabbed a fork into a sausage. "What are you waiting for? Food ain't going to eat itself."

Claire leapt onto the bench and practically pounced on the food, shoveling eggs into her mouth like she was digging for treasure. She drank a glass of orange juice in one long gulp and then slammed it back down on the table with a burp. She closed her eyes and just savored the runny flavor of the eggs mixed with the tangy juice for a moment before pouring strawberry syrup over a short stack.

Hartmann passed a cup of coffee under his nose and inhaled deeply. He nodded to the trainees who followed his example. "You smell that? That is the smell of victory. Remember this moment and remember this…_qui desiderat pacem, praeperet bellum_."

"Let him who desires peace prepare for war," Claire said.

"Very good, golden girl. Your daddy did teach you good. That is why you are here. Those people out there…they sleep safely in their beds because you stand ready to do violence in the dead of night on their behalf. And remember this, all of you…from now on, the only easy day was yesterday."

**CODEX:**

Guidon – a unit flag like a pennant

C'est vrai – that's true

Azimuth – a vector/angular measurement

Mikes – Minutes

G-2 – Intell officer

End Ex – Terminate the exercise


	8. Chapter 8

**W/N - **Thank you all so much. And thanks to Aria's Afterlife, my favorite forum on the Citadel. Let's have a little action mixed in with some character and get a glimpse of the rest of the team and some of the cadre. We'll have a surprise visitor, one from a future dlc. Some of the characters are going to see some changes too as the pressure builds.

**In the Bush – 09 March 2176, 0822 hours**

It had been three days since that wonderful, hot meal and a long hot, steamy shower after, but Shepard remembered it well. There was no time or space for privacy out here in the bush and Claire and Amanda soaped down with the rest of the team. Amanda had jumped right in, peeling her clothes off with abandon while spacer Claire stood, wide eyed and mouth open for a bit before sneaking into the warm jets of water. In space, you were often at close quarters with people, but no one but family saw your junk.

Afterwards, they had the debrief, mixed in with Echo Team. Those guys were ratty and filthy and gaunt, looking starved and pissed off. The cadre took their time, ripping everyone apart as a detailed video of every move, every shot, every radio call played out. _Why did you stop here? Why did you make this call? Maybe you should have been looking where you were going._

Hours of PT, hand to hand combat, and marksmanship followed before they were back out on the road, humping it to God knows where. Along the way there were lessons – weapons and tactics, battlefield surgery, and turian and batarian physiology and combat doctrine. With turians, you had to wound one or two so that the others would stop to render assistance, bogging down many more. Batarians didn't care as much so it was better to just waste as many as you could as quickly as you could. They learned which turian head fringe was the most sensitive and just how to twist one of those mandibles to bring a turian down. They were taught that the top of a batarian's head where the bone plates met…that was a sweet spot easy for a dagger to slide right into. And the PT…that never seemed to stop. But the one thing that was different now was that Hartmann, Grimaldi, and Powers matched them, pushup for pushup, kilometer for kilometer.

Now, two days later, Claire took out the last of the buns that she had squirreled away, wiped off the mud and stuffed it in her mouth. It was soggy and had a patch of green fuzz on it, but she didn't care. To her, it was as good today as it was three days ago.

"Tastes good, huh?" Amanda asked.

Claire tore off the last hunk of stale bread that was sticking out of her mouth and handed it to the Marine. "The best."

Amanda chewed on that for a few seconds before swallowing. "If I could have just frozen that breakfast in time." She licked her lips. "Oh, thanks for that bun though. Mmmm mm, a little mud mixed in with mold and sweat and some fetid rain water to boot. Every meal a banquet, every formation a parade. I love the Corps. Ooorah."

A few raindrops landed on their heads, causing them to look up just as a torrent of water poured down upon them through the jungle canopy. Shepard raised her hands to the sky. "Awww, great, just what we needed, another good soaking."

There were groans throughout the team as shirts were wrung out and water shaken out of hair and packs. Grimaldi, who marched along with the group, seemed unfazed. "Buckle down, gang, cold and wet is just a state of mind. How bad do you want this?" he asked with a faint Italian accent.

"Bad, chief!" the team sang out.

The chief squeezed the ends of his black handlebar mustache, water dripping off from the tips. "See, nothing but a thing," he said with a pleasant chuckle.

Claire grunted sourly, in no mood for humor. Rivulets of water like an open faucet ran down her face and off of her nose and chin. "Worst storm we've had yet," she said as her steps began to sink deeper and deeper into the wet ground. The march turned into a slow crawl.

Amanda pulled one boot out of the muck, a sucking sound following each of her strides. "Guess we all needed a shower. So, Claire, what's up with this daddy thing you got going on?"

"Her dad's an admiral," Adam chimed in.

The Marine waved a dismissive hand, flinging drops from her fingers. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Everyone's heard about the Director of Alliance Intell. What I want to know is what's the deal? Why do you have to be all, _yes sir, no sir_ with him?"

Claire shook her head, unsure of whether to be insulted or pleased with the interest that was being shown. "It's hard to explain. I'm more of a subordinate than a daughter to him. As an only child, I'm a legacy for the family name, nothing more."

"Family name? Whoa, you are a golden girl. So, what's so special about the Shepards?"

There was both a little bit of pride and a little bit of shame in the telling. "We can trace our lineage back more than seven-hundred years. There was a Shepard who helped bring Henry Tudor to the throne of England over Richard III. Our crest is logged in the College of Heraldry. Another Shepard charged up a hill called Cemetery Ridge at a place called Gettysburg. A Shepard has fought in and likely died in more conflicts than I could count. Movers and shakers, we, I am told. Lots of tradition…way too much pressure."

Amanda blew out a long breath. "Hooowee. I think I get it. Now, the Richardsons of Boca Raton, Louisiana, there's a name for you. Dad was a crabber on the bayous…died when I was five."

"I'm sorry."

"Nah, don't be," Amanda said with a shake of her head. "I barely remember him. Mom and the seven sibs raised me. Catching crabs with the brothers, now there was a good time."

Claire threw her head back. "Oh, hot, buttery crab legs!" she said and inhaled with nostrils flared. "I can just smell it now."

Adam made a snapping motion with his hands. "Crack!" he said and then put his fingers up to his mouth as if he were putting crab meat to his lips. "Mmmm mm. There's this bar in Rio that this corsair took me to one time…Jacob I think his name was. The best crab legs in Brazil." He pointed around to everyone in the group. "When we get out of here, I'm taking you all there, my treat. You too, Grimaldi."

"Hey, just call me Carlo," the chief said.

"Sure thing, Carlo," Adam said, his face lighting up. "I'm taking you all there. It's going to be great! Crabs galore."

Amanda held up her hand and spread her fingers, counting on them, one by one. "Crab cakes, crab dip, crab melt, crab gumbo…shit, you guys have to try mom's crab gumbo. Bacon drippings, andouille sausage, shrimp, and, of course, crab. That will knock your socks off. Sister Mary, she took that recipe down to New Orleans and has a restaurant there. We're going to do Mardi Gras one day, all of us."

Yuri spoke up. "Hey, hey, you haven't tried anything until you've had good pirozhki. Prime beef boiled with sweet sautéed onions, stuffed in a delicate pastry. _Kharasho_!" he said, smacking his lips.

"You guys are not going to believe this." It was Joe. "I was a chef before I joined the navy." He moved his hands around as if he had a spatula and a pan. "Salmon on the grill with a Dijon mustard, orange marinade, served on a warm bed of soft green beans and toasted walnuts." He made a sizzling sound.

Claire smacked her forehead. "Oh, you guys are killing me." She looked back over her shoulder. "What about you, Kim. What do you got?" Through the rain she could see he was real pale, staggering through the mud as if he were sleepwalking. "Hey guys, Kim don't look too good."

Amanda held up her arm. "Hold up!" she said and then ran to the back of the line. "Hey, Kim…Kim, look at me." She snapped her fingers in front of his face and he slowly focused on her.

"Fever…so cold."

Claire came over and she and the Marine held Kim up by the arms. "Damn, he's freezing," Shepard said, "worse than me."

Carlo took off his pack and pulled out a first aid kit. He flipped open the lid and pulled out a bottle of pills. "Here, Kim, take this. Antibiotics. How are you doing? Do you need to sit down?"

"No…no, I'm good. Can't fail."

"Okay," Carlo said, checking Kim's pulse and then feeling his forehead. "If you go on, you go all the way. We still have ten kilometers until the next site."

"I can…hack it. I'm not weak."

Amanda snapped her fingers and then pulled Kim's pack off of his shoulders. "Teamwork, people, teamwork," she said and then handed the pack to Adam as she and Claire helped Kim along.

Carlo nodded. "You guys are starting to get it. This is what it's going to take to make it through The Vila."

Claire gave him a brief smile. In contrast to Hartmann's intense and seemingly heartless fury, Carlo was laid back, lean and wiry. He was kind of like everyone's big brother. Then, together with Amanda, they helped, pulled, and sometimes dragged Kim towards the rally point. Boy, this guy was big and they often grunted and strained under the effort. In this environment, the man's size was almost a liability. He had to drag more weight farther and higher up all of the ropes and steps that needed to be climbed and it had caught up to him. Shepard just prayed that Hartmann didn't come around any time soon as he would tear up the sick man and toss him in the trash. _No weakness. No mercy._

"This guy works out too much," Amanda said with gritted teeth. "You know, Shepard, you and me, we come from different sides of the tracks. I'll bet you drink your tea with your pinkie sticking out. Funny how we all ended up in the same place though."

Claire looked up for a second, letting the rain pelt her face. "You mean this fine piss hole of an establishment?"

The Marine snickered. "One and the same. You know, I was in a gang before this. Street thugs, petty shit."

"What? Really? A gang?"

"Yeah," Amanda said, looking down. "I was a handful and most of the sibs were off doing their own things as I got to my teens. My big bro, Marty, he'd already run with The Tenth Street Reds and I had to be a part of that action. I was well on my way to jail or dead when Sister Mary said she'd knock me into tomorrow if I didn't shape up. Took me down to a recruiter and the rest is history. The Corps' been good to me."

"Marty?"

"Prison. Doing a dime on a red sand rap. Bastard named Finch ratted him out."

Kim groaned and shifted his head back and forth. "_Bulgogi_," he said in a croaky voice.

Claire scrunched up her face. "What? Is that Korean? Is he delirious?"

"No, it's a food. You guys were talking about food. Bulgogi is my favorite."

The team laughed. "Aww shit," Amanda said, "you had us worried."

Kim took two weak steps and then stood a little more strongly. "I think I'm good. The pills are kicking in. Thanks for not leaving me behind."

Claire and Amanda released his arms and Adam handed his pack back. "Nobody gets left behind," the Marine said.

Everyone chimed in. "Nobody!"

**The Rally Point – 09 March 2176, 1728 hours**

They had been moving progressively uphill and the temperature had been dropping steadily as they marched out of the jungle and onto open terrain. The tall grass was a welcome change from the mud and the endless canopy of trees. Through the sheet of rain they could just make out some tents and Master Chief Hartmann, standing in the downpour, his arms cross, water pouring off of the brim of his cap. Far behind him, a foggy mist was gathered along jagged cliffs and steep slopes. Claire inhaled a deep, misty breath, relishing the fresh mountain air and the cool moisture on her face. It reminded her of a childhood visit to the Highlands of Scotland, pristine lakes and rolling green hills, shrouded in fog. For a moment, she imagined her mother in a plaid dress, serving her warm shortbread cookies. It was a good memory, one that she had to put aside as the team broke into a run to meet the Chief Instructor.

"Welcome to Serra do Espinaço, the Espinaco Mountains. Peaks rise from eleven-hundred to two-thousand meters. Look over there," he said, pointing off into the mist where they could see a small lake covered in wispy tendrils of fog blowing along the water. "You see that boat? Delta Team, situation, twenty minutes ago red sand dealers seized the vessel of a rival dealer. Normally, not a problem for the military, but a VIP of Parliament was aboard and got caught up in this mess. He got a call out before the dealers shut him down. Parliament has asked for the immediate intervention of hostage rescue assets and Delta Team was the nearest to the incident. That means you, chowderheads," he said sternly.

Carlo propped up a holo screen and a digital image of a yacht appeared and began rotating slowly. Then, blurry pictures of a violent takeover of the yacht began to play out. Carlo pointed to the mob on the boat. "Hostile forces consist of approximately one dozen persons, carrying small arms. After taking control of the vessel, they herded the hostages below and no activity has been observed on deck since."

A schematic diagram flipped up on the screen, showing various weapons from pistols to shotguns to SMG's. Data streamed up, giving the Deltas intell on heat capacity, muzzle velocity, and rate of fire. Hartmann pointed to each of the weapons in turn. "Witness observations and video footage indicates that these are the weapons you will be facing. The hostiles appear to be trained, but not expert in small arms usage. Unit S-2 says that they are likely to defend in place, using hostages as shields. No demands have been issued, but one hostage has already been executed, the body thrown over the side. Confidence in there being additional hostage execution is high."

He then turned to the Deltas. "Friendly forces on site consist of the six members of Delta Team. Down by the shore you will find breather gear. The rules of engagement limit you to small arms only, no pyrotechnics. Law enforcement teams are thirty minutes out. You have been ordered to affect the immediate rescue of all hostages and to secure at least one hostile for interrogation. The final status of all other hostiles is a non-consideration," he said in conclusion and then pointed to the team. "The mission is yours. Proceed with speed and violence of action."

LaRosa and Amanda rushed up to the screen. "The stern is our only viable ingress point," Amanda said, pointing to the back of the boat where a boarding dock was located.

Adam nodded. "We should proceed from the shore, underwater, to the ingress point. I want Yuri and Kim, port and starboard in the water to cover the decks."

The two men nodded and Adam continued. "We will be at a point of critical vulnerability as we transition from the water to begin the assault. Claire, you're up front. I need my best up there."

She gave him a little grin. "Roger that."

"Amanda and I go up next with Joe behind us. We secure the deck and Yuri and Kim flow into the stack," Adam said and revealed the rest of his plan. It sounded good, but no plan survives contact with the enemy. They rushed down to the shore and looked over the breather gear. Claire had seen this before at the Academy and she slung the slender gray pack on her back and brought a tube up to her mouth and drew air.

"Systems green," she said, giving Adam a thumbs up.

Amanda came up behind her and began tugging at Claire's gear. "You're good to go. Buddy check."

Claire returned the favor and saw that the Marine's gear was high and tight. She tapped Amanda twice on the shoulder. They threw on face masks and fins and slid silently into the water amid the piddle of rain. The moment Claire submerged, the shock of the cold gripped her throat and he skin prickled. The damn water wasn't much warmer than freezing and she flutter kicked her legs harder to keep warm. Her earpiece crackled. "This is LaRosa, comm check."

"Five by five, how me?"

"Same. Proceed to ingress point." They swam along in a loose formation until they could see the hull of the boat. Without a word, Yuri and Kim detached and swam to the left to set up position. Claire could see the boarding dock, bouncing in and out of the water. She looked over to Adam and he nodded.

Claire broke the surface of the water in complete silence and hauled herself up on the platform. She drew her pistol and gave it a quick function check, pulling the loading port back just a hair to see that the ammo block was properly seated and the chamber not flooded. Then, she pulled off the faceplate and breather and set it on the deck out of the way.

"Clear forward." It was Yuri.

Shepard took a position overlooking the bridge, covering it with her pistol. She could feel Adam and Amanda egressing the water and moving in behind her and she shook off a shiver. Adam gripped her shoulder and gave her a squeeze that told her to move forward. Claire quietly duck walked along the port side rail, keeping a constant eye on the bridge. Just behind the wheel housing she saw a head and held up a closed fist followed by hand signals.

_One up. Scanning. Hostile. Shotgun. _

Adam's hand came up around her face. _Terminate._

Shepard did a quick check around the bridge and saw a ladder leading down. She pointed it out to Amanda, who covered the hole with her weapon. Shepard slipped around the wheel housing and holstered her pistol, drawing her stun dagger from its sheath. Coming up from behind the hostile she could see that it was a mech dressed in clothing. Mech or not, it was going to die. Reaching around, Shepard grabbed the mech over its 'mouth and nose' with one hand and drove the point of her dagger up under its jaw near the 'ear.' Its eyes went dark immediately.

"Hostile down," Claire said quietly into the boom mike at her mouth. She moved to rejoin the others when she saw a mech's head pop up through the hatch from below. Adam brought his pistol to bear, but the mech ducked back down just as he pulled the trigger.

From below, they could hear a mechanized voice calling out, "Cops! Grab the hostages."

Adam hesitated and Claire rushed past him. In a fraction of a second she decided that it would be better to rush in and take the initiative rather than be forced into a standoff. Any which way you sliced it, it was going to suck. With one hand she grabbed a railing and swung down the ladder as she drew her pistol with her other hand. The muzzle cleared leather and she jammed it right into a mech's face and pressed the trigger. Its eyes went dark and it crumpled to the ground, revealing other mechs scrambling to grab hostages…real live hostages and a bunch of weapons were swinging around towards her.

"Oh, fuck!"

**Command Post – 09 March 2176, 1749 hours**

"She's like a monkey, swinging on the bars," Seth Powers said as he watched Shepard on the monitor, scaling down the ladder in a smooth leap. "Whoa, nice contact shot."

Grimaldi nodded. "She's pretty fast, but I think she bit off more than she could chew here." On the various displays, they could see Shepard's eyes get big and she mouthed a curse. The only thing a good operator could do now is go on the offensive.

Pistol held one-handed, Shepard's muzzle flashed two more times and two more mechs fell. She grabbed a pole and swung away just before an assault rifle opened up on full auto. Amanda was next down the ladder and landed with a _thud_, rolling away before mech could take aim. Adam reached down and fired off a stream of shots, knocking that mech over. Another mech aimed down at a hostage, but Amanda drilled it as she sprung back up.

Hostages began screaming, adding to the chaos in the cabin. A woman ran by, her arms flailing and Shepard paused to let her by before shifting left and punching out another shot into the head of a mech. Adam slid down the ladder, followed by Joe, who tackled the panicked hostage to get her out of the way. Adam grasped his pistol with two hands and unloaded on another mech.

"They just might pull this one off," Powers commented as he threw a handful of peanuts into his mouth and began chewing loudly.

"It's not over yet, bro. The best is yet to come."

Yuri came down the ladder into a hail of gunfire from the remaining mechs and his vest lit up. One of the mechs grabbed a man from behind and held a pistol to his head. "Come no further or he dies," the mech declared in its robotic monotone.

The firefight in the cabin came to a sudden stop. Three mechs were left standing as Joe and Kim hustled hostages up the ladder. Weapons were brandished from both sides as Claire and Amanda slowly circled in opposite directions. Adam held the center, moving behind a desk for cover.

"Oh shit, I remember this situation my go around at ICT," Powers said. "It doesn't end well."

"I remember _you_ fucked that one up."

Seth threw some peanuts at Carlo. "You always got to bring that one up, Grim."

A lot of yelling, back and forth, erupted in the cabin as the mechs moved around, keeping the Deltas from getting clear shot. The mechs retreated from the main cabin, pulling the man with them.

"I'll bet you they have no idea who that man is, huh?"

Carlo stroked his handlebar mustache. "They would shit their pants if they knew."

"I shit my pants when I found out."

"Yeah, I could smell it."

"Grim, you always gotta bust my chops, huh?" Seth said playfully as he tossed more peanuts at Carlo. He watched as Shepard tried to take a flanking postion around the mechs. "That one, I'd do her."

"Always thinking with the wrong head."

The door to the command post opened. "This isn't a goddamned porno, you two." It was the master chief. "Get your dick back in your pants, Powers. You two clowns are lucky I didn't send you packing at ICT. Don't make me regret that."

"Sorry, master chief," they both said at the same time.

The monitor showed that the three mechs had fallen back into another cabin and closed the door, leaving the Deltas lost without a clue. Seth shook his head. "I think they're screwed."

Hartmann nodded slowly. "Sure looks that way."

Grimaldi turned away from the spectacle for a moment and looked over to Hartmann. "Say, master chief, how's your daughter?"

Hartmann sucked his teeth. "None of your goddamn business. Now do your job and watch the team."

**Below Deck – 09 March 2176, 1756 hours**

The hatch closed with a soft click that was deafening to the team. Claire pounded her fist on a bulkhead. "Dammit, I couldn't get a clean shot. Now we got nothing."

Adam ran a hand through his wet hair and closed his eyes tight for a moment. His face was the picture of stress, teeth clenched. "All right, let me think, let me think."

"Adam, we don't have much time," Amanda said. "We've got to make entry."

Joe shook his head. "We go in through the front door and they'll just blow the hostage away."

A thought came into Claire's head like a lightning bolt. "Hold here. Joe, with me. We're going in through the top," she said quietly, pointing up.

Adam nodded. "Good. Go…go."

Shepard bounded up the ladder, again like a monkey, followed by Joe. She looked back down and winked. "Wait for my signal," she said and then walked softly over to the sunroof above the cabin with the mechs. She took a quick peek down to see the mechs holding cover at the hatch as the man knelt down, face against a bulkhead.

"Joe," she whispered. "On three, tear the sun roof off. One…two…three."

Joe grabbed it with both hands and ripped it off of its hinges. Claire grasped the edge with one hand and swung down, pistol out. _PopPop._ A mech crumpled down as she landed on the deck. "I'm in!"

The two mechs turned to face her right as Joe leaned down through the hole and drilled another one. Then, Adam kicked in the hatch and shot the last one in the back. It was all done in less than three seconds.

The man stood up and smiled through a dark goatee. "A full encirclement. Hannibal would be proud," he said with barely a hint of a Russian accent tinged with the Queen's English.

Amanda stepped up, her pistol trained on the man. "No offense, but we don't know if you're not a hostile."

"Ahhh, very wise, sergeant," he said with a wink and a slight bow. "Let us call End Ex. We are done for the day."

At that moment, Hartmann came in through the hatch. "Sir," he said, addressing the man. "Delta Team, allow me to introduce the Commandant of The Vila, Colonel Oleg Petrovsky, distinguished honor graduate of ICT, Class Fifty-Seven-Zero-Six."

Every eye on Delta Team shot open wide. "Room, ten-hut!" Adam called as they all stood, ramrod straight.

The colonel waved his hand dismissively. "At ease…at ease, Delta Team. That was an assault worthy of the Battle of Cannae." He patted Shepard on the cheek and grinned, looking back at the master chief. "This one, she is agile like a monkey, yes?"

Hartmann merely raised an eyebrow.

Petrovsky turned back to Claire. "I know your father. We go way back. I look forward to working with his daughter too."

Shepard swallowed a lump in her throat. "Thank you, sir."

Petrovsky scanned the team. "Victory is to be rewarded. Tonight, the boat is yours. You will find refreshments in the galley. You will also find an armory where your personal, custom made weapons are stored. Some will find assault rifles, some, shotguns and others, submachineguns. Use them well. These tools for you are like the tools of the Spartans, sword and spear, shield and helmet. And you, like the Spartans, will learn to come home with your shield or be borne upon it."

Shepard knew this classical reference and found that she liked the colonel…admired him. He was intelligent and refined and, if his reputation was any indication of the man, a brilliant tactician.

Hartmann stepped aside to let the colonel depart. When Petrovsky had gone, he sneered at the team. "Don't get too comfortable," he said and then looked right at Shepard. "Nobody's daddy is gonna save anybody out here." Then, he pointed at all of them. "For the rest of this cruise, it's just you and me."

**Command Post – 09 March 2176, 1829 hours**

Powers munched peanuts as he watched the monitor. The master chief had just finished working the team over, pushups and flutter kicks until they were gasping and red faced. He felt for them as he knew what they were going through. "It's only going to get worse," he said out loud.

"It'll get better eventually," Carlo said, watching Hartmann march out of the cabin. "Hey, if we survived, anybody can survive."

Powers reached out to the controls and zoomed in on Claire. "I'd still do her."

Grimaldi scrunched up his face. "Are you mad? An admiral's daughter? You'd be cleaning latrines in a ward for the intestinally disturbed for the rest of your career."

Seth laughed, stroking his blond goatee with one hand and rubbing his bald head with the other. "It would be so worth it, Grim."

Carlo slapped Powers on the chest. "Okay, shut it, the Commandant's coming up."

The door opened and Colonel Petrovsky strolled in with an easy stride. "Gentlemen," he said with a broad smile.

"Colonel," they responded as one.

"I'm glad I caught you two. Have you given any thought to what I said before?"

"I'm thinking about it, sir," Seth said.

Carlo nodded. "I believe I'll take it…after this class is over."

Petrovsky patted Grimaldi on the back. "Good man. I know you will enjoy it. The Illusive Man, he takes care of his people. You just keep that to yourselves for now. No need to give Hartmann things to fret about. He's a busy man."

**CODEX:**

Oorah – Marine phrase of esprit de corps

Ochen harashoo – very good

Dime – Ten years

S-2 – Intelligence Officer


	9. Chapter 9

**W/N - **Back on the horse again. I've got a ton of stories in the reading queue too. Let's just look at some team interaction. Things will get hot again soon.

**On the Boat – 09 March 2176, 2051 hours**

The smell of grilled fish permeated the main cabin of the boat along with the sounds of lapping water against the hull. Up on the main deck, Shepard took a long deep inhale, letting her mouth water. She had volunteered to sit watch in the dark as she knew nothing, but nothing about cooking. She could mess up tossed salad as her father would let her know.

In the aftermath of the exercise there was still some wariness and tension. But, all seemed quiet though and she had rigged traps and warning devices along all boarding avenues on the ship in case the cadre had any wild ideas. She found herself enjoying the calm silence and the gentle rocking motion of the boat. She thought about Colonel Petrovsky. He seemed like a decent, honorable man, someone she would be glad to fight for.

As dim lights twinkled on the water of the lake, Shepard laid her new Hydra shotgun on her lap and looked over its intimidating shape. It was a weapon designed to scare the beejezus out of opponents. If a shotgun could snarl and bare fangs, the Hydra would. She ran her fingers along the synthetic material of the stock and frame and out to the cold metal of the barrel.

"Do you always caress your stick like that, golden girl? I thought I saw love in your eyes."

"Hey, jarhead. Have a seat. What's cooking down there? They better hurry up or there's going to another assault on this vessel."

Amanda chuckled. "I hear you. Joe and Yuri are going to town in the galley. Joe, he's like some mad scientist when you put him in a kitchen. There's shit flying around and they're tossing pots and pans back and forth as if this were a circus."

"Oh, I gotta see that. Take the watch for a sec, will you?"

The marine nodded. "Take your time. It's a feast for the eyes."

Claire swung down the ladder bars and landed softly in the main cabin and let her nose lead her to the galley. The sight that greeted her was one of wonder. It was like Christmas, ballet, and art all rolled up into one. Joe had a pan down on the grill with one hand while he stirred something in a sauce pan with the other. Smoke drifted up from the grill as Yuri chopped fruits and vegetables and literally tossed them behind him to be caught by Adam and washed in the sink. Kim started singing a hip-hop Korean song to accompany the whole escapade.

"Whoa," Claire said, getting their attention. "I leave you boys alone for a minute and it's like a party down here."

"You know it," Joe said, never looking up from his pan. Filets of halibut sizzled, mixed in with red bell peppers and wild rice. Adam was already busy filling bowls with lettuce and bits of shrimp.

Claire slid in between them, admiring each dish. "You guys spoil me."

"Thank the colonel," Yuri said. "That man is solid in my book. Being Russian doesn't hurt his standing either."

The men each raised a can of beer. "To the Commandant. Here, here!"

Claire scrounged for a bottle of wine and a glass and poured it full. "Claret…Sixty-Five, the man has impeccable taste."

"Here, here!" the boys called again and slurped more beer.

Joe turned off the grill and put the pan on a hot pad. "Coming right up," he said and then poured the sauce over the fish, bringing the whole meal to sizzling perfection. Adam set plates on the counter as Kim placed out silverware.

"So, Joe," Claire began, "where were you a chef at?"

He wiped his hands on his apron. "It was a restaurant in San Fran a few years ago, called San Fran Fusion, sort of an Asian flavor. I won a cooking show back in college."

Claire took a sip of wine. "Really? I mean, why did you leave? What brought you to this place?" she asked, waving her hand around.

"I wanted to do something…you know, for the Alliance. I felt like I could contribute more here. And, heck, I can still cook wherever I'm at."

Feeling bold, Claire picked up some chop sticks and picked off a piece of the filet from the pan. She blew on the flaky bits and fanned it with her hand for a few seconds before sliding it between her lips. She leaned back into her chair. "Wow, can you cook or can you."

Joe gave her a broad grin. He rang a brass bell that was hanging over the table. "Dinner is served."

"Now that's the kind of bell I like hearing rung," Claire said as Joe began spooning servings onto the plates. Claire passed them around to the team. "Sir, sir…one for you too," she added as the guys took the plates and began digging in. She took one more along with a full glass and shimmied up the stairs to the upper deck.

"Here you go, Amanda," she said, handing the marine a plate as she set her own down on the deck.

"Awww, I take back everything I said about you, golden girl."

"Only the bad stuff, I hope."

Amanda took a long sip of wine. "It was all bad," she said with a wink, elbowing Shepard.

Claire let out a chuckle. "Other than today, it's been a while since I had a good laugh."

They ate a few forkfuls in silence, just listening to the lapping of the water on the hull. The half moon was just poking through a hole in the clouds and Claire realized that it hadn't been raining. "Look at that," Amanda said, pointing at the moon. "To think that we haven't been up there all that long."

"I hear rumors that N2 training takes us up there to Luna Base. They're working on some crazy VI to help run the simulations for us."

Amanda turned to her and narrowed her eyes. "Really? A VI? Where'd you hear that?"

"My dad made mention of it."

Still chewing on a mouthful, Amanda grasped Claire by the arm. "Let me tell you something, Claire, and you do not let this go to your head. I may have experience, but I have never seen physical skill like you have. Provided you don't fuck up bad, you will go places in this outfit."

"Gee, thanks."

"But wait, there's more. One of these days, you're gonna have to stand on your own and be your own person. Only then are people gonna respect _Claire_ Shepard."

"Amanda's right." It was Adam. "I hope I'm not intruding, but I couldn't help but overhear that."

Claire felt a little ganged up on at first and crossed her arms. "So, what are you guys, closet psychologists?"

"No," Amanda said, shaking her head. "Just someone who's been around the block a few times." She grasped Shepard by the shoulder in a sisterly way. "Hey, we only want what's best for you."

A million things ran through Claire's head in that instant. Her father used that line often, but it never quite meant the same thing. Somehow, Amanda's words seemed genuine. She hesitated for a moment, trying to form words. "I…uhhh, thank you. My father says that a lot, but he means _what's best for him._"

Amanda winked. "I kind of gathered that."

With that, they fell into silence, just enjoying the lapping of the water and the quiet ringing of the ship's bell with the rocking of the boat. All three of them leaned against each others' backs and rested in their own thoughts, wondering what was to come next, wondering if any of them would still be together at the end. Whatever was next, they would have to get over the mountain in the coming days to see it.

**Serra do Espinaço - 11**** March 2176, 1744 hours**

Icy rain pelted the Deltas as they climbed over the rocky terrain, hand over hand at times. Up at point, Claire looked back down the steep slope at the team and had to wipe near frozen droplets from her eyes. She flexed and then squeezed her hand to keep warmth in her fingers and to keep the blood flowing. Joe was right behind her with Adam coming up next. They had inherited two members from the now defunct Foxtrot Team and these guys were stuck in the middle with Amanda bringing up the rear.

_What were their names again?_

Claire could see her own breath come out in a cone of steam as she pulled herself over another ledge. She forced down a shiver and swung her leg over the crest of the rock and looked up at yet another rise. "This shit goes on forever," she said to Joe as she extended a hand to pull him up.

He climbed up and helped Adam next. "Just be glad we're not on a real mountain range."

Adam stretched his back and pulled Yuri up. "At least it's not snowing."

"The Urals would kill us if we were back in Mother Russia." Yuri added. "That shit…whew," he said, raising his hand up high.

Claire reached up and grabbed another outcropping of rock, hauling herself up. "Yeah, thank God for small favors," she said mirthlessly. Her hand slipped for a second as cold water washed over the rock and down her arm, but she slapped her fingers back onto the stone and then dug the toe of her boot into a foothold. A similar ritual repeated for two more rises before they could see the sun setting and the misty landscape grow dark.

"We better camp here," Adam said as the last of a dim orange glow faded to purple and then to deep blue. "I can feel the temperature dropping." He pointed around them. "This is a decent ledge. I think it's as good a place as any."

Under the lights from some of the handhelds, they quickly threw down some tarps and extra clothing to form a sort of nest. The team yanked out cloth bedrolls from their packs and began to lay them out just as the freezing rain came down in sheets, pelting them with stinging drops. Their weapons were foremost so they got the driest spot on the ledge.

"We can't go any farther anyway," Adam said over the roar of rain. "We have to wait this one out." Each slid into a soaking bedroll and tried to get some sleep.

Claire sloshed around, trying to find a dry spot on the ground, but the tarp under them was pretty well waterlogged. It was just miserable. Trying to suppress her chattering teeth, she bit down on some gum that she had been chewing on. "I hate sleeping on the wet spot!" she blurted out, garnering some laughs from the team. She chuckled along with them too and then tried to get comfortable, but it was impossible. Minutes turned into hours as Claire tossed and turned and shivered as water pooled on the tarp, turning it into a lake.

Frustrated beyond measure, Claire sat up with a sour grunt and wiped cold water from her face.

"Can't sleep either, huh?" It sounded like Amanda, but Claire couldn't see anything and the rain distorted all sound.

Through chattering teeth, Claire tried to speak. "I…I can handle the running, the PT…the pain, but this…this is horrible. I'm numb…I can't feel a thing." She felt someone pinch her bicep.

"Well, no shit, golden girl. You don't have an ounce of fat on you. No insulation. You need to eat more of Joe's fine cooking." The marine put her hand on Claire's neck and forehead.

"I…I…I am so down…for that," Shepard said, nearly incoherent. She heard Amanda breaking a glowstick and then a soft green light filtered through the marine's hands.

Amanda snapped her fingers. "Hey, guys, wake up!"

There were moans and groans among the rest of the team. "What?" someone said edgily, rubbing his eyes.

Amanda beckoned them with her hand. "Get over here guys. Claire's in bad shape."

One of the new guys grunted. "Awww, let her ring the bell. I'm trying to get some sleep over here."

Amanda was over there in a flash and grabbed the man's earlobe. "Hey, maybe you didn't hear me right the first time so allow me to open your ear. Get over here. This is a team."

"Awwwright, awwright, shit, that hurts."

"Okay, listen up," Amanda said, giving the guy a shove on the head as she let his ear go. "The only way to get her through this is body warmth. Strip down to your skivvies and we're going to dog pile her."

Adam laughed through chattering teeth. "I've been waiting to do that. Now, only if this weren't on a soggy ledge in the middle of nowhere with all of you muttonheads."

Claire watched helplessly as they team shed their fatigues and slid under her bedding. For the first time since she was a child she couldn't tough this out, fight through it, or outrun it. She fought the urge to refuse their help and she knew that, without it, she would surely fail. With a shaking hand, she grasped Amanda's arm. "Hey…hey, thanks…. I'm…I'm sorry I was a shit to you."

"Don't mention it, golden girl. This is a team." Someone pulled off her shirt and pants and she thought the whole thing might have been fun if she weren't so miserable. The next thing she knew, warm bodies were all over her. At first, it was a claustrophobic feeling and she was tempted to squirm out, but the warmth was nice.

With much less chattering and shivering, Shepard poked her head out from under the pile. "Nothing like a blanket of strapping boys to go to sleep to," she said, garnering a few awkward chuckles. There was something to being part of a team, part of something more than just yourself. Her father had always told her to stand on her own and rely on no one else and, for the longest time it made sense. From the day of her commissioning, she had a vision for herself, one in which she was the captain of her own vessel, fast and sleek. Captain Claire Shepard was cold and dispassionate, ruling with an iron fist. But something here was different and she didn't quite know what to feel about it. Not yet at least. Claire enjoyed the warmth just a little bit longer and then drifted off.

**Serra do Espinaço - 12**** March 2176, 0551 hours**

"All right, time to get moving," a man said as he tapped the pile of bodies with his boot. There was a chuckle after. "Getting cozy, huh?"

Shepard opened her eyes to find her face stuck in Adam's armpit. "Ugh, thanks for keeping me warm, but this is a bit much," she muttered and then looked up at Grimaldi, who was standing over them in the growing light. She rubbed her eyes. "…Morning…." How were Carlo and Hartmann able to keep sneaking up on them? Must be some of the N7 magic she hoped to learn.

The team disentangled themselves and policed the area, picking up their weapons and packs. Shepard wrung out her socks and then pulled on her damp shirt and pants and noticed Adam glancing at her. He quickly looked away as she made eye contact. _What was that about? _She scrunched up her face and put on her boots, not giving it a second thought. In minutes, the area was clear and they quickly found a way off the ledge, farther up the mountain.

The incline wasn't particularly steep as it was more of a hike, but the constant rain and chill wore the team down. Claire just focused on climbing, hand over hand and foot by foot as they neared the peak of the Serra do Espinaço. The hours went by, mostly in silence, punctuated by a few brief conversations, all about the mission. During a brief pause she looked back down the mountain through the mist and rain. It was another beautiful sight.

"In all of this harshness, I've seen so many breathtaking things," she said, putting her hand over her eyes for a better view.

Amanda stopped next to her and joined in the viewing. "I never really took a look before, but you're right. This is…is something," she said, blowing out a long breath and shaking her head. "You know, when I ran with the Reds…all concrete and filth. Nothing like this. I finally had to join the marines to see things that really touched me."

They started hiking again, occasionally looking back at the magnificent vista, misty cliffs and peaks that overlooked a far off lake amid rolling green hills. "I never get tired of seeing things like this," Claire said. She snickered. "I feel so sheltered. I'd only heard about gangs and things like that on the news. Uhh, what was it like?"

"You don't want to know…. But, I'll tell you anyway. I told you it was all petty shit. Well, that wasn't entirely truthful. Before I got fully in, it was something special. My brother Marty ran for them and he was always talking sweet about it. Then, I started hanging with his buds and doing small jobs for them, looking out for cops, running messages, that sort of thing. I think I was about twelve or so. This went on for a few years."

"So, that was it? Doesn't sound too bad."

"No, that was just the beginning," Amanda continued. She looked away for a moment. There was something in her eyes that spoke of pain. It was a look that Claire was only beginning to understand. "I turned sixteen and I thought I was ready and I was begging to join by then. You have to understand, Claire, that this was the only place I felt I belonged. The city was falling apart. Corruption was rampant and the politicians…they didn't care for nothing 'cept lining their pockets."

Claire took a breath. "I know it was bad in some of the urban sprawl, but things were improving, weren't they?"

The marine snorted. "They are now, thanks to some reform and the influx in the economy since we joined the galactic community. But not too long ago, it was hell, pure hell. So, I decided that it was time to become a full fledged Red," she said with a few nervous coughs. "My brother never told me this, but when you join, you get jumped in."

"What's that?"

"It's where every girl in the gang kicks the living shit out of you as initiation," Amanda said, getting Claire's eyes to open wide. "Then, the boss gets to use you for the night. Once you pass that, you're in."

Claire was horrified and her mind could not wrap around the whole thing. "Why…why would you even _want_ to join?"

"You have to understand, it was all I had…or all I thought I had. And once you're at that point, you don't have a choice. They wouldn't have made an example of me if I had backed out then," she said, drawing a finger across her throat.

"And your brother? He would have let them?"

"It probably would have been Marty doing the deed. That was the hold the Reds had over people. Claire, we had the whole city living in fear of us, fuck, the whole region. Nobody messed with the Reds, not the cops, not the courts, not even the fucking United North American States. Every politician and judge in the area worked for us or were too scared to challenge us. Within six months, I was running the protection rackets from Florida to Mexico. If anyone crossed us…," Amanda said, trailing off. "Claire, I've done some bad things. Really bad things. All I can hope to do now is to make amends here."

"What did you do, Amanda? I mean…how bad?"

"I…I can't talk about it right now," the marine said with a grimace. She bit her lower lip and then a forced smile crossed her face. "Maybe if you get me good and drunk one day. But, I tell you what, Claire, I was in the Reds two years, just turning eighteen and I was already on the inner circle. The boss was thinking about making me the head of all operations down south, Texas to Peru. But still, I lived every day in fear. If you got caught by a rival gang, they'd mess you up. The Kings would rip your jaw off and let your tongue hang down like a neck tie. The Shoguns would cut your head off and mount it on a board. Some assholes even used a chainsaw. I'd seen a lot of friends end up dead meat. And on top of that, you couldn't let your guard down even inside of the Reds. There was no such thing as trust. Your underlings would stab you in the back for a chance to rise and the boss could do you in because you were getting too powerful. Fear was a weapon. That was life in the gangs."

"How did you get out?"

"Well, that was when my sister Mary paid me a visit. Now Mary, she wasn't afraid of nothing, let me tell you. She marched right into the Reds' den. Knocked one of the guards on his ass and said if anyone stopped her from seeing me, they'd end up in her gumbo. I don't know how she did it, but she showed up right in my room, mad as a bag of hornets. I told her I was the new head of operations for the south, you know, to impress and scare her, but she didn't say a word. She gave me this _I don't give a shit_ look, grabbed me by the ear and dragged me out of there…took me right back home. Nobody stopped her. And, if I thought getting jumped in was bad, it was nothing compared to what sister Mary put me through. Next thing I knew, I was down at the Alliance recruiter."

"Wow, I'm really quite boring in comparison."

Amanda punched Claire in the shoulder. "Not at all. You are who you are and our lives are formed by our past. The one thing I really regret in this is that Marty was too far gone. There was no saving him at that point. I almost think that Finch did him a favor by ratting him out. I just hope he'll see the light before too long, but we'll be there to greet him when he gets released."

Claire thought for a moment before speaking again. "I'd read that in the last couple of years, the gang problem was significantly reduced and a lot of the urban areas are being renovated. The money from the colonies is really boosting the economy."

"That's one way to look at it. The rich will still get richer and the powerful will have more power. At least they'll pretend to care now. I did hear through the grapevine that the Reds got taken down a few notches. I'm just glad to put all of that behind me."

"Well," Shepard said, just cracking a grin and gesturing ahead, "we both have nowhere to go but up."

Amanda slapped her on the ass. "That we do, golden girl."

**Serra do Espinaço - 12**** March 2176, 2128 hours**

The wind howled on the peak of the Serra do Espinaço, driving the rain nearly sideways. It was impossible to set any kind of camp and the best the team could do was form another nest and pile on each other like last night. There was no sleep this evening though as temperatures dipped to barely above freezing with the wind chill. Claire fought the numbness and tingling as best as she could, balling her fists and curling her toes in her boots to keep the circulation going. It was a losing battle and soon, the numbness turned to tingling and outright pain. "I can't feel my nose," she said as she rubbed its tip with her hand. "I can't feel my fingers either." A grunt emitted from her throat, one of frustration and fear. Her hair whipped around in front of her face and no amount of friends could block the howling breeze that snaked through the pass, stealing their heat and their life force. Claire said that it was nothing less than a vampire in spirit, sapping her soul, one ounce at a time.

She looked around at the other miserable, huddled bodies and fought the urge to ask for help. This might not have been an enemy that she could see, but she could fight this. She was a Shepard and no cold could defeat her. She kept visualizing her father looking down on her, pointing a finger. _You represent the family. In all you do, you uphold our honor. There can be no failure, Claire. You understand that, yes?_

Claire's advanced genetics were working against her now, chewing through calories to keep her finely tuned muscles working and her temperature elevated. She wolfed down the last handful of trail mix from her bag and that was it. She didn't dare ask more. In just over an hour, her body squeezed the last of the nutrients from her tiny meal and her body temperature plummeted as the wind howled, steeling her warmth like a thief in the night. This time, she knew she was in trouble. Her vision was blurring and she had stopped shivering. She knew when that happened, everything was shutting down. Her breath came in shallow, steaming gulps. Another visualization passed through her mind…or was it a hallucination at this point? Her father walking away, not acknowledging her pleas. _Do you understand what you've done? We spoke about this. You could not fail._

Shepard needed to get help, she needed to let someone know. Damn her father and his stubborn pride. He was never an ICT graduate. He never had to go through this. His lot in life had always been with the powerful of the Alliance, brandy in the billiards room with admirals and politicians, polo on the greens. He wouldn't last a minute here…and Claire wouldn't last a minute longer unless she got help. She swallowed the Shepard pride and tried to speak, but only a gurgling croak came out. She couldn't even raise her hand at this point. The image of Amanda and Adam blurred and then faded and then went black.

Now, she was in another place, another hallucination flowing through her head. It was her mother this time, Hannah, looking down at her, wiping her nose, patting her on the cheek and then feeling her forehead. _It's okay, hon. You rest now. You don't feel well. _Hannah fed her some medicine and wrapped her in warm blankets and her mother let loose a beaming smile. _Your studies will always be there. Your job is to get better. And don't worry, I'll talk to your father. You only fail if you give up._ Hannah tucked a stuffed brown bear under Claire's arm and patted her on the head. _Boris will keep you company. Go to sleep now, love._

The vision blurred and she tried to reach up to her mother, but only ghostly forms faded in and out of her sight. "Don't struggle, golden girl. Here, just relax."

"You got her?"

"Yeah, yeah. Keep a light on the path. I can't see for shit in this rain."

Claire felt damp and wiped her eyes, but it didn't help. There was just a dull green glow around her. "Mother…tell Dad I'm sorry."

"She's messed up. Keep rubbing her feet."

"We've got to keep moving. She needs medical attention. Here, here's another coat."

"We're still a day's walk down the mountain, even if we had good light and a smooth path."

"Then we hoof it, you hear me?" That was definitely Amanda's voice and Claire felt like the marine was carrying her. The bouncing became more intense as Shepard flitted in and out of consciousness. When she woke again, she could just see daylight.

"Ohhh, what hit me?" She was being bounced around and could hear huffing and puffing all around her as the team jogged along.

"Glad you could join us, golden girl." Amanda had her arms slung under Claire's legs and Claire was draped over the marine's back. "Oh, you're getting heavy. Stop eating so much."

Shepard gave out a weak chuckle. "Okay, put me down. I can hack it."

Adam pulled alongside. "No way, you're pretty fucked up. I can take her again in a bit," he told Amanda.

Claire stretched out her aching back. "I was always fucked up, just in the head."

Amanda laughed. "You got that right. So, who's Boris? Some boyfriend?"

"Boris?" Claire said, cocking her head. "Oh, that was my stuffed bear. God, I haven't thought of him in years."

"Boris, oh Boris," Adam said in mock falsetto. "I need you, Boris."

"No," Yuri said, "I'm pretty sure she was moaning _Yuri, oh Yuri_."

Claire reached out and tried to swat Yuri on the head, but he ducked. "Oh, shut it already," she said weakly, but with a smile.

Amanda shifted and bumped Claire higher up on her back. "Ow…that's it. Adam, your turn again."

They stopped for a moment as the marine passed her off to Adam. Claire never felt so helpless in her life and it was both a miserable and a great feeling all at the same time. It had been many years since she allowed someone to take care of her and it would be many years before she would allow someone to do that again.

**Rio de Janeiro General Hospital – 13 March 2176 – 0800 hours**

Visiting hours had just opened and the hallways of the hospital bustled with staff and patients and wheelchairs. Everywhere one looked there was the antiseptic white color of medical care. Amid the controlled chaos, Master Chief Hartmann walked up to one of the nurse's stations and stood patiently.

One of the nurses looked up. "May I help you, sir?"

He blew out a long breath. "I'm looking for Vivian Hartmann. I'm her father."

"Oh, she's the new transfer. She just arrived recently. One moment please," the nurse said and flagged down another nurse. "Can you take Mister Hartmann to see Viv?"

The other nurse motioned him on and he fell in behind her. "So, you're Mister Hartmann? Glad you could come down. I'm sure Viv would love to see you."

Hartmann looked ashen and uncharacteristically nervous. He pulled out some flowers and a card from a bag that he was carrying as they rounded the corner. "Thank you. I appreciate you bringing me to see her."

The nurse led him up to a door and knocked. "Mister Hartmann's here."

The room was brightly decorated, full of flowers and balloons. On a shelf were decorations befitting an N7 operative – a pin and a baseball cap with the symbol of a winged Excalibur, medals and trophies, and pictures of friends and family. A slow, steady beep permeated the room along with the sound of a respirator. Nurses rolled a young woman on her back and wiped her nose and her unblinking eyes.

"Oh, Mister Hartmann. Come on in. We were just finishing Viv up. You can put those things over there, on that table."

The master chief forced a smile and placed the flowers in an empty vase and poured some water in. He set up the card besides the others. "Umm, any change?"

"Viv responds to some stimuli, but no cognitive functioning. I'm sorry Mister Hartmann. I wish I could tell you more."

"I…uhhh…no, thank you. I'm grateful for the care that you're giving her."

"We're glad to help. We hear that Viv is a real hero."

"That she is."

The nurses placed the mask back on Viv's face and stretched out her stiff and shriveled arms. "Okay, we're all done. We'll give you folks some time. Just call if you need us."

"Much obliged."

The nurses filed out and shut the door, leaving Hartmann to his thoughts and his regrets. He sat down and swallowed hard. He reached out to touch Viv's hand, but he couldn't quite do it and pulled his arm back. "I…uhh…Viv, they tell me you can hear me. I don't know if that's true or not. Your mom's gone, so you're all I have left. I wanted you close by so I brought you down here. The colonel, he paid for the whole thing. I may not agree with everything he does, but he's a generous man. I'm sure you remember Colonel Petrovsky from your time through."

He sucked on his teeth for a moment to compose his thoughts. He'd always been a man of few words and these moments were never easy for him. "Viv, I was too easy on you. It's my fault. I didn't give you what you needed out there. I didn't give you all of the tools. A lot of my people didn't come home either. I…I…ummm…I failed you all." He could still vividly remember the chaplain and another officer at his door, telling him that Viv had been shot by a Batarian sniper while rescuing hostages and that she was in a coma. He'd read the report. She was fast and brave, just like he taught her. She had saved dozens from death or worse, but she got distracted. She let her guard down. She overlooked obvious warning signs.

"I only hope that this may bring you some comfort, but I'm not letting that happen again. There's one in the class, Viv…she's so much like you, fast, strong, brave. Almost stupid brave. I only wish I had a second chance with you. Well, that's all I had to say. I need to get going, but I'll be back soon," he said and then leaned in hesitantly. He paused for a moment and then gave her a kiss on the forehead. There was a spike in her pulse and the beeps quickened.

"Nurse, please come in here."

One of the nurses rushed in and saw the monitor. "Well, she obviously likes you being here. I'm not going to get your hopes up, but it's a good sign."

Hartmann gave one solemn nod. "I'll take what I can get. Again, thank you and I'll be back soon."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: ** Whew, I got sidetracked for a few months, but I'm getting in the groove again. Mahalo for staying with me.

**The Vila – 13 March 2176, 1700 hours**

Her head felt like it was ten sizes too large and it throbbed like a bad rock concert. "Ugh, did a krogan hit me?" She rubbed her eyes and tried to open them, but blinding light stabbed her right to the brain and she shut them tight again.

"Shepard…Shepard, shit girl, you had us worried." It sounded like Amanda's voice, but it tinny and hollow, like it was coming through a pipe.

Someone slapped Claire on the cheek a couple of times and then tweaked her nose. "Hey, sleepy head. It's about time you woke up."

"Is that you, Adam? I'm going to rip your head off!"

"Ah, now that sounds more like her." There was another tap on the top of her head and then a tousle of her hair.

Shepard forced her eyes open, enduring the shocking brightness until the stabbing light subsided to a strong glare. She realized that she was in a hospital room, pristine and white. Then, she hardened her gaze at Adam and reached out, trying to seize his arm, but he snatched it back. "Hey!" he said, "All grumpy this morning, huh?"

"You don't know the half of it," she said with a sigh and then a slow smile spread across her face. "But thanks, guys. You had my back and I won't forget it."

Adam put on this 'aww shucks' look, bouncing back and forth with a blush. "Don't mention it. I'm sure you would have done the same for us."

The door to the room opened and then slammed shut after someone passed through. "No, she wouldn't have. This one's in it for herself." It was Hartmann. He pushed right through the team as if they weren't there and glared down in Shepard's eyes. "Can you stand?"

"I…I think so." She eased herself painfully from the bed.

"Don't think…do. Time's a wasting and your team is falling behind."

Shepard hopped down onto bare feet and stretched out her back. A dull ache ran through her muscles like choking vines, but she nodded. "I'm back in the fight, master chief."

He tugged on her hospital gown. "You're going to go out like that?" he said with a smirk. "Now that I'd like to see." He broke eye contact and then sneered at the team. "What are you all staring at? Get the hell outta here and do some work for a change."

The team scrambled out of the room, asses and elbows, shutting the door behind them. Shepard flung a nearby locker open and grabbed a new set of training fatigues. "I'll be ready in a moment, master chief."

He pursed his lips and nodded. "Good to have you back, Shepard," he said. She looked for any expression, any sign of warmth, but she was disappointed. He was all business. "Fall in with your team outside and make it quick," he added and then turned on a dime to leave the room.

Shepard practically dove into her training fatigues and stepped right into her boots as she made for the door. She could already hear yelling and counting as she dashed through the hospital exit. "What are you waiting for, Shepard? A sealed invitation?" Hartmann shouted. She could see the team doing burpies, down to do a pushup then standing back up to jump. Down again, and then back up. "Your team missed you so much, they insisted on more PT."

She felt a flush of guilt and scrambled in line just in time to dive down for a pushup. This time, her muscles ached and she felt just a little lightheaded. She glanced over to see Adam, straining and red faced, but smiling bigger than a Cheshire Cat. "One, two, three, ten! One, two, three, eleven!" Claire called.

"Did someone steal your vitamins?" Hartmann hollered in that mocking sing-song voice. "Did your cat run away?"

"No, master chief!"

"Then why the pathetic, weak-assed, sobbing in your cheerios mumbling? You want to cry? You want a sympathetic shoulder? Then get the fuck out of my Vila and go home! Sound off like you give a shit!"

"One, two, three, fifteen! One, two three, sixteen!"

In spite of her aching arms, Shepard had to laugh on the inside. The master chief didn't miss a beat and it was right back to business. She had been given a second chance and she knew it. And, as much as she hated to admit it, that chance was because of the men and women to the right of her and to the left of her.

**The Vila – 14 March 2176, 0249 hours**

The next morning came fast…way too fast. There wasn't even a glow on the horizon as the Deltas trotted in formation along a dirt path, their flashlight beams bouncing up and down. Claire wiped crust from her eye with a muddy hand, which only made it worse. A lot of food and her genetics had mostly healed her from her ordeal the other day, but she still ached like she had the flu. Hartmann trotted alongside them, his PT uniform pristine and pressed, his boots shined to perfection.

"You look mighty sleepy, Shepard. You wanna take a nap?"

"No, master chief!"

"Good, 'cause this next evolution will wake you the fuck up for sure. You ready, Golden Girl?"

"Born ready, master chief!"

"Team…halt!" he yelled as he raised a fist. The Deltas came to a stop on a dime, standing lean and ready. Claire could see Grimaldi at a table that was full of ammunition blocks.

"Step up quickly, people," Grim shouted. "Simmunitions and sims only! Power up your stun wands too. Quickly! Quickly!"

Shepard stepped up to the table and Grim slapped a bunch of blocks into her hand. "The clearing barrel is over there," he said, pointing to a black tube mounted on a stand. Claire moved to the barrel and put the muzzle of her assault rifle into the opening and then pulled the charging handle back to do her safety check. You always had to assume the weapon was loaded. Satisfied that her weapon was safe and empty, she jammed a block into the well and slapped the bolt catch to chamber a round. She could hear the eezo core hum as it stripped off a shard of metal into the firing chamber. Being able to grasp these small nuances of the weapon are what separated the professionals from the rabble: the weight, the sound, the feel. The way in which she handled the weapon told those around her that she was a warrior: trigger finger anchored prominently on the receiver, crisp motions of her hands and eyes, and a vigilant but relaxed posture. Putting the rifle back on its hard mount, she did the same with her pistol and then stuffed it back in its holster.

The Deltas quickly locked and loaded and circled around Hartmann. "Take a knee, people!" he called out and they knelt as one. He tossed a data pad to LaRosa. "Sitrep," the master chief added, asking for the mission briefing.

Adam read the word stream on the data pad and grunted several times. "Oh, great."

Amanda scrunched up her face in displeasure. "You gonna sit on all of that info or you gonna share with the rest of the team?"

"Sorry," he said and looked up. "Situation: deep space SIGINT has picked up comm chatter that a biotic extremist group will stage an attack on a population center. The Office of Naval Intelligence believes that they are bringing in a weapon of mass destruction, type unknown. J-2 has a HUMINT source on the inside that is willing to cooperate."

Joe leaned over Adam's shoulder, trying to get a look at the data pad. "What's the story on the source?"

"Just getting to that," Adam said with a hint of impatience. "Okay, J-2's been developing sources inside extremist groups and they have one who can provide immediate traction on the situation. There are some grid coordinates here," he said, pointing to a GPS map on the pad. "The source is waiting for us here and we're to provide the following parole for authentication: Nature. The source is to respond with 'calls.' The source will have a red scarf out as an identifier. Our first mission is to meet with the source and gather actionable intelligence. From there, we are to neutralize the threat and recover the weapon. For this mission, we will be joined shortly by Teams Alpha through Echo. Delta Team has ten team members in which to prosecute the operation. Our armaments include small arms, grenades and hand weapons. We can expect no further reinforcements or resupply. Any questions?"

"That's right, people," Hartmann said with all seriousness. "This is a major action. All teams will be playing. This is not a competition. You will be judged on teamwork. You will need to bring all of your skills to the table today. This is where you will become N Operators or you will take the long walk home. Are you ready?"

"Ready, master chief!"

"Well, what are you waiting for…a directive from Parliament? Get your asses moving!"

The Deltas broke ranks and fell into a loose formation, advancing towards the meeting site. Adam stabbed his finger at Amanda and Claire. "Scouts out front. You two have point." As the two double timed it ahead, Adam switched his radio to the common frequency. "All teams, this is Delta checking in."

"Copy Delta, this is Charlie. We'll be leading the way in to meet with the source. You guys anchor the flank with Echo. We'll let you know how it goes."

Adam shook his head. "So much for teamwork," he said to Amanda and Claire.

The two ladies split up and hustled out 50 meters ahead of the formation in the tall grass. Shepard flipped down her NVG's and the world turned a sickly color of green for her. She scanned the terrain ahead, sweeping back and forth with her rifle. She saw buildings up ahead and what looked like a vehicle depot. A Grizzly tank sat dormant near a fueling station. There was movement up ahead and Claire took a knee.

"This is Delta Two, hold up. I've got movement up ahead in the urban center." She saw ten operators leapfrogging up to the first building. "It's Charlie Team. I'm moving to a covering position." In a crouch, she scurried up to a fallen tree and placed her rifle over it, muzzle downrange, ready to engage any hostiles. "In position. Holding cover."

"This is Delta One. I'm on your left," Amanda said. "Fifty meters."

"This is Delta Three. The rest of Delta will hold here," Adam told them. "We're ready to move in on your call."

Claire tapped her omni tool and added the Charlie's frequency to listen in on. She moved some of the dirt around at her legs to get more comfortable and popped a stick of gum in her mouth. In a couple of chews, that sweet flavor coated her tongue, taking the edge off of the chilly morning.

"Charlie Five and Six, move up," the Charlie Team lead ordered. "Take position at the corner of that building. Charlie Seven and Eight, cover."

Claire watched as two operators hustled up to the corner of the building leading to the vehicle depot. It looked pretty vanilla.

"This is Charlie Five. I've got movement in one of the structures past the Grizzly. It looks like…like an asari. She's got a red scarf. That's got to be our contact."

"This is Charlie Three," the team lead said. "One and two, move up. Make contact with the source."

Two other operators bounded ahead, crouching low and sweeping the area with the muzzles of their rifles. They moved past the Grizzly up to the asari.

"This is Charlie One. We've made contact," he said. "Nature."

There was some static on the line, but Claire could just hear "Calls" through Charlie One's mike. She breathed a short sigh of relief.

"This is Charlie One. Source identity confirmed. We are proceeding into this structure to hear the source's intell."

"Copy that," the team lead answered.

The two operators followed the asari through a door and passed out of Claire's sight. She took a breath and relaxed, anticipating a few minutes of respite. She dug into her pack to pull out an energy bar. A little nutrition before it got hot and heavy would do her good. She reached into her mouth and pulled out the gum, sticking it on the log to save for later. As she took that first bite of bread and raisins the skin on the back of her neck crawled. She froze and then slowly turned her head to the right.

"Fuck me," she whispered. Three crouching figures were spreading out around her position, submachineguns and shotguns sweeping for her. Behind them came a loose formation of troops, all glowing faintly blue. Shepard silently shifted her body, moving her rifle towards the threat. "This is Delta Two. We got company on the right flank," she whispered into the mike.

Claire peered into the optics of her rifle, placing the red dot right between the lead scout's eyes. She held her breath and began pressing the trigger. Just as the shot broke, the building in which the two Charlie operators had gone into exploded into a ball of blue flame. Shepard saw the lead scout collapse and then turned to sound of the blast. Her eyes grew big as the Grizzly tank came to life and fired its cannon right into Charlie Team.

"It's a fucking ambush!" she called into her mike as small arms fire erupted around her.

**CODEX:**

PT – Physical Training.

SIGINT – Signals Intelligence. Gathering data by electronic means.

J-2 – Joint Intelligence Command

HUMINT – Human Intelligence. AKA sources.

GPS – Global Positioning System


End file.
